


Deficient

by NebulaticNavigator



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, Dark Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, Mutual Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Sick Character, space disease, temporary vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-10-18 18:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulaticNavigator/pseuds/NebulaticNavigator
Summary: After an extraction mission from a dark, empty planet goes downhill fast, the Paladins of Voltron find one of their own to be acting rather peculiar.





	1. Ferrerus, the Ghost Planet

"To be perfectly honest," Allura continued, fingers flicking virtual screen after virtual screen away, "we can't receive clear imaging of the planet's topography due to the density of the atmosphere, so landing the castle would be a major risk; you'll have to go down in the Lions." 

Pidge cocked her head, stepping forward to better examine the holograms. A sphere was visible, a planet the Paladins had just learned was named Ferrerus, and it's only discernible feature was that it was absolutely smothered by slow, swirling clouds.

 

"How do we know there's even land down there?"

"Oh there's land, alright!"

Coran piped up from beside Allura, catching the attention of every Paladin. He smiled with pride, twirling his mustache as he went on.

"Back in the day, King Alfor and I visited Ferrerus for regular supply missions! They were a large contributor in metal-making, steel, neumanium, you name it. And when the war broke out, they were among the first planets to step up and offer their services to Altea. 'An alliance stronger than steel!'...it was all well and good, until the impact."

"Impact...?" Hunk questioned timidly. Coran nodded somewhat solemnly.

"A meteor struck right in the heart of their largest plant. Kicked up so much dust and dirt into the atmosphere it blocked out the sun, on top of devastating the planet's structure as a whole. Considering we can't even look down past that shroud, I'd say that's been the case for ten thousand years."

"The planet never recovered," Allura added, swiping away the screen and turning to face the Paladins, gaze strong.

"You four must go down to Ferrerus' surface and recover any iron that may still lie within the planet. Even in it's rawest form, we cannot let good materials be used for anything other than defending the universe."

"How can we be sure there's even any left? It's been over ten thousand years. For all we know the Galra scraped it clean."

Keith's statement left Allura hesitant only for a moment before she spoke again, this time with slow patience. 

"That is a possibility...however, while we can't get a read on landmass, we  _ _can__ detect a strong magnetic presence within the planet that goes beyond mere gravitational pull. That's enough evidence for us in thinking there's an abundance of unharvested natural resources."

"Wait wait wait, how do we know we're not gonna get stuck down there? If the planet's a magnet, I mean, the Lion's are metal so—"

Allura masked her exasperation with a hand over her face, letting out a sigh. Always Lance...

"There  _will_  be a reaction from your Lions, but nothing that will damage the electrics or prevent you from leaving the surface. At most, you'll experience some minor interference. Are there any more questions? Now's the time."

. . .

"The shroud prevents all sunlight from reaching the surface, so it will be extremely dark and extremely cold. Your suits will sustain your body heat and protect you from feeling the frigid temperatures. Regardless, I don't want any of you down there longer than three vargas."

 

 . . . . . . . 

 

"Man, a  _mining_  planet," Lance said aloud while going about the proper preset procedures for Blue. "You think there's like, skyscrapers and other metal stuff? Stuff that looks like Earth cities? You think there's a Ferrerus New York City?"

"You should've asked Allura," Keith's voice crackled into his ear, sounding annoyed. Lance's nose wrinkled.

"Well I wasn't  _thinking_  about that stuff when we were with Allura. What, I can't start a conversation now?"

"If there were cities, the meteor probably did something about them," Pidge responded. "We won't know until we get down there."

"You think there's still people?"

There was silence after Hunk's question went through their headsets.

"...Allura woulda told us if there were people, Hunk," Lance answered, but he didn't sound totally sure with himself. Not because he mistrusted Allura, but that was definitely a good question. "But I mean, if they had an alliance with the Paladins of Voltron before, and they're still around, I'm sure they'll be happy to help again. It's probably just a ghost town down there. Or, uh, ghost planet."

. . .

Absolute silence, aside from a small whimper that was  _ _definitely__  from Hunk. Lance chuckled, nerves bristling.

"C—Come on, guys, don't leave me hangin' with 'ghost planet.'"

"What, you freak yourself out?"

" _No_!”

God, he could  _hear_  the stupid smirk on Keith's face. Lance gripped his controls tightly as his and everyone's Lions hurtled out from the castle into the open void of space. He only half-heard Hunk's "Well, you've officially freaked  _me_  out..."

"Paladins," Allura's voice cut through. "I'm reminding you that you'll experience some technical interference when you break into Ferrerus' atmosphere. It's to be expected with such massive quantities of magnetic substances. Again, nothing that should prevent you from completing your mission or returning to the castle. You're about 45 ticks from the surface. I'll be listening the whole way."

After a unison "Got it," "Thanks," "Aye-Aye" and "Understood," Lance swallowed and hoped no one had heard.  _Technical interference_. Technical interference on the way down to a ghost planet. Would he lose control of Blue? Even if it was only supposedly temporary, that didn't sound fun at all. Ferrerus grew bigger and bigger in his scope, and he found that he was holding his breath, letting it out in an anxious exhale.

"Brace," came Keith's voice, followed by silence. Right. Brace for it. This was a mission. Just a normal mission. In fact, they probably wouldn't even have to fight anybody! Yeah. Yeah, that was a good deal. What was losing control of Blue for a bit if it meant he didn't have to—?

_Vwoooo_ —

Everything went black. The comforting glow of blue optics flickered out around him, sending the cockpit into total darkness. The light hiss of his helmet's feed died instantly, thrusters down, leaving Lance in total silence aside from the muffled sound of rushing air as Blue hurtled far too fast through the thick, thick clouds. Lance saw nothing.

"Guys? Hey!  _Guys_!? Oh  _come on_ , come  _back_!"

His fear spiked as he did all he could to get any kind of response from Blue, from his teammates, Allura,  _ _anyone__. Deafening silence, pitch blindness, zero control. Everything happening now was pure gravity. Gravity, and the ever-going passage of time.

" _HEEELP_!

Blue burst back to life, but only for a moment, her lights flickering back on. Lance's feed fizzled back, and all he heard was yelling. Simultaneous yelling, unintelligible from each other. Lance scrambled for Blue's projectors, slamming his palm on the button and watching the beam burst to life in his field of view.

Then it went black again. Nothing.

Then there was everything.

The fluctuating continued rapidly for all of four seconds, audio cutting in and out as if someone had silenced every other half second of a film, strange and choppy, until finally—

The surface.

Each Lion punched through the clouds, the space closing behind them just as quickly as they'd opened.

"Pa—ns—resp— _allign_ _—_ _nd_ _,_ _Pal_ —!"

_"_ _Everyone pull up_ _!"_

Keith shouted over the broken feed. Allura was in and out, staccato, until her voice was just gone.

Lance babbled absentmindedly to himself as he righted his Lion, shaken and needing to hear something again ("We press that, turn _that_ , there we  _go_ , o- _kay_ ") as he realized his best efforts were still cutting it close.

Way too close.

It was a rough landing, the Blue Lion skidding about nine hundred yards from where he'd intended. Dirt and debris flung into the air, and he could just barely make out through the new cloud he'd made that the others were suffering the same fate, all but full-smashing into the ground. Quick breathing filled the comm feed until Keith shouted again.

"Is everyone alright?"

He received a cacophony of responses, some murmured curses, everyone through his feed, and then Pidge suddenly said "Princess? Princess...Princess, Cora—"

. . .

. . .

"The signals from the castle can't get through the atmosphere..." she explained, looking up at the sky with a mix of fear and wonder.

"...we're cut off."

Keith's tone was matter-of-fact. If that's the way it was, then that was that. Lance looked between everyone, a feeling of dread sinking into his stomach.

"...alright, change of plans. Allura doesn't want us down here for more than three hours. Under the circumstances I'm cutting that down to two. Point your lights toward the coordinates then regroup on foot outside."

Everyone automatically positioned their Lion's projectors, producing very visible cones of light that streaked through the darkness. A large, battered structure suddenly was made visible a few hundred yards away, as if it had just burst into existence. It was initially a building, but it looked as if it were melded into a nearby mountain.

. . .

Lance took a deep breath as he stood from his seat and slapped one of his thighs in an effort to get them to stop  _shaking_. A few more breaths and he felt like he'd somewhat regained his bearings. He opened Blue's hatch, reluctantly descending down to the surface of Ferrerus, and once he'd activated his suit's luminescents, he quickly panned around.

"Guys?"

"Over here."

What he could hear in his helmet he could also hear just a ways to his right, and his beam of light struck his friends. He smiled and made toward them at a quick jog. It wasn't that he was afraid, not at all,  _ _never__ , but he figured, hey, the others might feel more comfortable with him around.

"Took you long enough," Keith remarked, to which Lance scoffed.

"I was taking my precautions! It's an alien planet, we can't be too careful. I bet you were the first one out, huh? Talk about running into—"

" _Lance_."

Pidge cut him off and Lance shut up quickly.

Inside their helmets were small lights, everyone's expressions illuminated with eerily false phosphorescence. With their suits and projectors together, they produced a small orb of light in what was otherwise impenetrable darkness.  

"Alright," Keith started, and Lance's attention piqued. It was always interesting watch Keith... _lead_. It was like he channeled a whole different person, someone that might have been nervous, but knew how to take control of a situation.

He really had, for better or worse, stepped up. Lance was as unused to hearing Keith give orders as Keith was to giving orders at all. Sometimes it rubbed him the wrong way, but so long as Lance and the others had input, it wasn't... _awful_.

"We can cover more ground once we reach the plant by splitting up."

. . .

_Never mind_ , _it was awful_.

"Are you serious!?"

"What?" Keith responded, irritated.

"Have you never seen a horror movie? We're on an empty dark planet,  _all alone_ , going into some  _creepy alien metal factory_ , and you want us to  _split up_?"

" _Okay_ , I wasn't gonna say anything but I totally agree with Lance here," Hunk squeaked, head turning from the plant to the group furtively. Keith opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but he stopped short. After a moment and quick breath, he looked back to Lance, voice somewhat strained, brows knitted.

" _Look_. If we're all alone, then what is there to be afraid of? It's just  _dark_. It's just dark, and if you'd have let me  _finish_ , you'd know we weren't going one by one. That's too dangerous  _and_  stupid."

"The way Allura made it sound, this is an extraction mission. Meeting someone who could help would be nice, but from the looks of it, nothing can survive here anymore," Pidge added, looking away for a moment to let the light catch their surroundings. It was so... _quiet_. She felt the sort of weight a library had, someplace where raising your voice had severe consequences. When she spoke again, it was softer.

"Who's with who?"

"You're with Hunk, Lance is with me, _because_ —"

Keith cut off Lance before he could speak, and  _ _boy__  was Lance ready to speak.

"—if you go with Hunk, you guys are gonna freak yourselves out even more."

"Yeah. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty freaked out..."

"Well what about Pidge!?"

"Lance, this  _isn't an issue_ —"

"Hunk can lift more than I can, and I can calm Hunk down. Keith wants you to go with him because, right now, you're the best strategist we have. Right? He might need you if things go south, Lance."

. . .

"...yeah..."

Keith sighed his agreement with Pidge.

Even being called the best strategist wasn't enough to make Lance fully comfortable (it did send just the smallest burst of pride through him), but..deep down, deep,  _deep_ down,  _way_  deep...he knew Keith was trying. Struggling, but trying.

They'd all been struggling...

. . .

"Okay. I'm with Keith."

Keith nodded, a silent 'Good,' before turning to face the others.

"Once we're inside, we'll split off east and west. Get as much iron as you can, bring it out to the entrance, load it up in the Yellow Lion, and we're back on the ship in no time."

Affirmative nods all around, and then they set off at a walk that eventually turned into a small flight, their jetpacks adding the smallest bit of extra illumination. The darkness followed closely, as if waiting to swallow them the moment their luminescents went out.

Hunk kept his path as he did a slow 360° with his projector, taking in their surroundings, only to come to a total stop. Lance flew right into him with a thud and a grunt.

" _Hunk_ —!?"

"Guys...?"

Lance followed Hunk's gaze, annoyed until their lights hit it.

'It' being a massive metal structure, spanning far into the sky. And beside it was another, a bit smaller. And another, and another, dozens. Ragged, torn metal buildings. Deteriorated, yet preserved by the planet.

The edge of a broken city, their four separate beams of lights dancing over the openings that once served as windows, signs in unknown alien languages, covered in dust and decay.

. . .

"...there's your Ferrerus NYC, Lance," Pidge murmured, breaking the silence, which everyone was grateful for, grim as it was. It was one thing to be on a currently desolate planet, but with the added weight of just  _ _how inhabited__  it used to be...

"Let's keep moving."

Keith's voice shooed the existential dread away for the time being, and they were on the move again. No one really spoke after that. Lance kept trying to think of something to say, a joke to lighten the mood, something to change the subject, but he was honestly at a loss.

Not because he was scared or nervous or anything. Why should he be? It was just dark. 

. . .

_sksksksk_ —

Lance whipped around at hearing a strange sound, his light catching—

...nothing.

"Did you guys hear—?"

Lance turned, seeing that no one had noticed he'd stopped. His heart hammered in his chest, momentary fear driving him to yell " _Hey_ _,_ _wait up_!" as he zoomed back to the group. By the time he caught up, they'd reached the plant.

Now that they were right on top of it, it was almost remarkable how intact the building was when compared to the skeletal skyscrapers they'd seen in the opposite direction. Being encased in the mountain must have played a large hand in preserving the structural integrity. Honestly, who knew? It was only a one story, but given the foundation, it almost definitely spanned deep underground and far into the stone.

...underground...within the empty, dark planet...

"Remember. We're in, we're out, we're gone. If your frequency starts acting up, get outta there. I don't wanna take any chances losing comm down here. I want us back on the surface in an hour."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the entrance. Strange shadows intensified now that there were walls and a ceiling, dancing with beams that broke through the doorway.

"...you think maybe they still have working lights and they're just off...?"

Hunk's voice trailed off, and Lance forced a laugh, slapping him on the back.

"Come on, buddy, it's empty! It's just dark. This'll be a piece of cake."

It's just dark...it's just really,  _really_  dark...

After a moment to absorb Lance's words, be they true or untrue, they took their first steps into the mining plant and then went their separate ways. Lance heard Hunk's trembling voice behind him.

"Hey, uh, d—don't take this wrong way...can I hold your hand? I usually hold hands for stuff like this,  _man_ , I hate stuff like this..."

"Sure, man."

Lance couldn't help but laugh. Well, at least Hunk was okay...

They were on a sturdy metal walkway, something like a grate, every step they took making metallic clunks that echoed downward. He made the mistake of peering down with his projector and saw they were actually above a cavernous inky void, with dozens upon dozens of walkways spanning down into what Lance could only assume was the Ferrerun underworld. A chill shot up his spine.

This  _sucked_. At least with Hunk he could have totally held a hand. But Keith—

 . . .

Oh,  _wait a second_ , Lance knew how he could make himself feel better! He smiled mischievously and nudged Keith's arm, catching his attention as they stepped deeper into the facility.

"You know, Keith, if  _you're_  scared you can hold  _my_  hand, too."

"I'm not scared."

. . .

Jeez, he could at least play along...

Lance's fun lasted all of four seconds, deflating right back to the bundle of nerves he'd tried hiding away. Okay, so teasing Keith wasn't gonna work today, he had to do _something_.

"....how much metal do you think down's here?"

"I don't know. A lot? We'll know when we get it."

"..."

"..."

"I wonder how cold it'd be without our suits."

"We'd die."

Lance stopped short.

" _Look_ , just—!"

His voice reverberated thrice over and he immediately clammed up. It felt wrong to shout here...

"Can you just—I'm  _trying_  to make sure you're not freaked out being here."

Keith furrowed his brow.

"I just said I'm  _not_  freaked out. You can be freaked out, Lance. I get it. I don't like it here either. The faster we get the iron, the better. So do me a favor, and just... _help_ me. Please."

. . .

Lance shrugged, shoulders tense and he continued walking.

"I'm not freaked out, but yeah, I'll help."

Keith sighed, but that was the end of it. They matched each other's pace in silence.

. . .

...he really  _was_  doing a decent job. He wasn't Shiro, but none of them really were. Nobody could be Shiro. Keith was doing his best, though, and no one was dead yet, so...B+?

They went on in semi-comfortable silence for a few minutes before Lance broke it again, this time with a sincere question.

"...soooo why  _did_  you want me to come with you?"

"Like I said, you and Hunk'd be freaking each other out. I can't calm him down like you can; he'd probably start crying."

Lance cocked his head, confused.

"Really? He told me you did  _ _great__ in the Weblum. And like, that was in a  _body_ , you calmed down Hunk and got him to do some cool space dodging stuff. That's impressive stuff..."

. . .

Had anyone told Keith he was doing a good job? Lance had thought it (truthfully, only for the past week, but all the same), but had anyone actually... _said_  "Good job, Keith?" Like...for losing his mentor, and taking up his mantle with Allura as a go-to, he was handling himself and everyone pretty well. He'd  _kept_  everyone together, he'd learned how to make sure everyone could still  _work_  together.

He responded a little less to Lance's teasing, which was disappointing, but to be fair, Lance had also cut down  _quite_  a bit on the material since Shiro vanished...

If Lance said 'You're doing a good job, Keith,' right now, would Keith even believe him? He wasn't sure what he'd think about the inverse, Keith to Lance. There'd automatically be a layer of "Yeah, sure" he'd have to crack through.

. . .

"Hey...uh...you know, I just—"

_sksksksksksk_ —

" _HooAAAAH_ —!"

The sound was back, and it was  _ _close__. On top of them, around them. Lance's shriek startled Keith more than the skittering, both boys flinging their bayards out, gun and sword blazing, their projectors swinging wildly until they settled on—

. . .

"... _aaaw_...!"

"A rat...?"

A creature.

A small creature, long and thin, was perched on a twisted bit of metal that looked as if it had once served as a handrail. It was covered in ivory white fur that almost glowed in their light, and it was currently using a one tiny paw to clean a tuft of fur on it's head. When it finished, it looked at the boys with milky white eyes, head twitching about in the way that small rodents do.

"It's like a little ferret!"

Lance was grinning ear to ear. Oh thank  _God_ , it was just an animal. A tiny, adorable animal. Yeah, the eyes were a little spooky, but overall, this brought the whole mission  from a three to about an eight out of ten in terms of comfort zone. His gun dissolved, along with any perceived sense of danger. Keith was much slower to allow his bayard back into its resting position.

"It's like an albino  _ferret_!"

"Don't those have red eyes...?"

"Yeah, but that's an Earth ferret. This is Ferrerus...a  _ferreret_."

Keith groaned, already beginning to walk away but stopping short when he saw Lance hadn't budged and wasn't making any signs of doing so.

"Come  _on_."

" _You_  come on! Seriously, this is the nicest thing we've seen since landing. You ever hear the phrase 'stop and smell the roses?' Well I'm gonna stop and pet this ferreret,  _thank you very much_."

Lance looked back to the ferreret, feeling peace wash over his soul. The ferreret leaned toward him, as if investigating, sniffing quickly.

"What'chu doin' down here, little fella? You got a family? You got little baby you's runnin' around?"

" _Lance_ , we're wasting time."

Lance huffed, whirling to face Keith. This guy...

" _Relax_ , Keith, I'm—"

_SKSKSK_ —

And had Lance not been turning back toward the creature, very ready to pet it, he would never have seen it lunge toward him, mouth open to reveal teeth that were _much_  sharper and thinner than an earth ferret's would be. He gave a startled cry and just barely dodged out of the way, the ferreret skittering on the metal grate and almost immediately changing targets towards Keith, who was just a millisecond too late in reacting.

It latched onto his hand, the one that was initially headed for his bayard before it was raised and flailed. Both boys yelled, panic ripping through the air.

" _Get it off me_!"

Every other sense went on total shutdown as Lance retrieved his bayard, gun raised, grip steady.

" _Hold still_."

" _What are you doing_!?"

" _Just trust me_!"

Amidst his fear, Keith took a deep breath and held perfectly still, and within the same moment, the shot was fired just above the ferreret. The heat from the plasma startled the creature, and it shrieked, releasing its vice grip and slipping with unexpected speeds into the bowels of the dark plant.

. . .

"... _aaaaAAAAAH WHAT WAS THAT_!? What  _was_  that!?  _Are you okay_!?"

Fight had expired and now Lance was experiencing pure flight, moments of soul-crushing fear filling in all that space that coolheaded bravery had occupied only seconds before. Keith was looking over his palm, inspecting it in what little light they had.

"Are you okay?  _Keith_?"

" _Shut up_ , I'm checking."

He just...he just couldn't tell. It was too dark. However, he did feel just...the _slightest_ pinpricks of sensation in his hand...not pain. Cold. Intense, blistering cold.

"...it got through my suit..."

"It  _got through the suit_!?"

"I think my palm's going numb...frostbite."

Keith's voice was slow and serious. Clearly trying to keep himself calm. Lance watched him for a moment before biting back every current feeling he had to just yell, and he nodded.

"...w—we need to get back to the castle."

"Lance? Keith, can you hear us!?"

"What the heck's going on?!"

Pidge and Hunk came through on their feeds, and just as Lance opened his mouth, Keith put up his hand and shook his head ' _No_ ' quickly. Lance stuttered in the breath he took, and Keith spoke, his voice only giving the slightest tremor.

"Something happened. I need everyone back to the Lions and back to the castle ASAP."

"What about the iron—?"

"The missions's called off. I'll explain everything once we regroup. Do your best to stay off the ground. Lance and I'll meet you soon."

Before anyone responded, Keith was already moving, with Lance in hot pursuit.

Everything about him was stiff. It was as if once Lance had exited fight mode, Keith had gone right in. His face was set and stony, running with purpose, cradling the bitten hand with his other.

Lance should've listened. They should've kept moving

He would've listened to Shiro.

. . . 

"...Keith, I'm—"

"Don't."

"..."

"Just—don't say anything until we're back."

Lance swallowed again, keeping his pace as he felt his heart grow heavy with worry and guilt. He should've listened. He should've just listened.

...he could kick himself later.

They were outside, the lights from their Lions nearly blinding them as they flew directly into their beams. Had the circumstances not been so dire, Lance might have said something like 'Keith, don't go toward the light!' Such a thought didn't come to him, however, as he was focused solely on Keith's hand. Small silhouettes were ahead, and he realized they belonged to Pidge and Hunk, and he managed to see them heading towards their own Lions.

Soon it was time for Keith and Lance to break away.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Red's got me. Get to the castle."

Lance nodded, speeding toward Blue until he found himself safe and sound in her brightly lit pilot seat. He'd never thought he'd ever be this comfortable in a giant robot, but literally anything was better than the actual nightmare he'd just taken part of.

It dawned on him that if he was going to break through that atmosphere, he'd need some serious speed.

He watched Red perk up and move. He murmured "Come on, buddy" and breathed a sigh of relief as Keith's Lion rocketed into the atmosphere and vanished through the clouds. Okay. Thank God.

He gave Blue a running start before launching her upward, putting the thrust at max and hoping beyond hope that this would work.

Everything went black. His momentum carried him up, up, sailing at high speeds through the atmosphere. Lights. Movement. Darkness again.

"Come on, girl..."

Please.

Please don't strand him here.

. . . 

Space.

All systems online.

"— _ank goodness you're all alright_! Dock the Lions at once, Coran and I will—"

As Blue popped out of the shroud and entered space, so too did Allura's comm feed crackle back into existence, her voice full of relief; he could only imagine how frightened she must have been losing contact with the Paladins.

They were safe.

In his vision was light,  _glorious_  starlight, stars, the castle. He could just make out the other Lions in the distance, reaching the castle bay. They'd done it. And by 'it,' he meant they'd escaped. Not 'it' the mission. The mission had been a total failure.

The relief dissolved away into gut-wrenching worry. Was Keith okay? Had the ferreret bit his hand, or just the suit? Because frostbite was one thing, but to get bitten by some weird alien...the guy was already half Galra, like, what  _now_?

His entry into the castle was speedy, and soon enough he was sprinting full speed to the control room.

 

 . . . . . . .

 

Two small purple spots, about the size of needle's eyes. That was the only mark on Keith's palm. Allura reexamined the data they'd ran while Coran inspected the 'wound' itself with an almost comically large scope. Pidge was currently acting as the resident 'I know how  _human_  anatomy works' specialist.

"My best assumption is that the discoloring occurred when your—capillaries?"

She looked to Pidge for confirmation, and received a nod.

"The blood in your capillaries started to freeze after the creature punctured your suit and skin. Can you still move your hand?"

Keith curled his first, demonstrating his ability to still perfectly move every muscle and bone in his affected hand.

"That's a good sign...and the healing pod didn't detect anything that differs from your usual diagnostics..."

"...so...I'm good?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'good,'" Coran answered. "We can't be sure of anything until the color fades. The pod definitely should've cleared it up."

He looked between the other Paladins. Poor Hunk's face was ashen, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. Lance...

Lance just looked concerned.

"Describe the creature again."

"It—it uh...it looked like a rodent? Like, uh...picture the mice, but bigger, and more like a snake? But furry. I guess? We have something on Earth called a ferret—"

"You should  _not_  have engaged with it."

Allura's tone was like an ice pick through Lance's chest, and he winced, bracing for a more than deserved scolding.

"I'll share a portion of the blame for this because I didn't consider life possible in environments that harsh, but  _even then_ , _you_ should've taken that into consideration as well. Imagine what could've—"

"Allura, go easy on him...."

It was a murmur, but every eye on the room was suddenly on Keith. He looked exhausted, understandably so. Allura almost looked more surprised than Lance.

"Keith...you—"

"I should've been careful and gotten a better handle of situation before it ever started. I kept saying the planet was deserted, everyone was freaked out after we went dark in the shroud, I didn't make enough of an effort to fix that...I coulda done more. I _shoulda_ done more."

. . .

...was this happening? Lance couldn't form thought, nothing aside from ' _What the hell_?' He'd been positive that he'd be getting thrown under the bus the moment he set foot in here.

Keith defending him was a first, and it threw him for a loop.

Allura hesitated, but ultimately, she sighed and accepted Keith's explanation with a resigned nod. If anything, she was grateful for it. It had only been a short ordeal, less than two hours, but she felt as if all her energy for the day had been utterly drained. She never felt like telling anyone off.

"We  _all_  underprepared...whether or not we attempt this mission again will require a much more thorough investigation of Ferrerus and its surface inhabitants. We cannot allow anyone to be in any more danger than is absolutely necessary. Pidge, I have more questions for you regarding human anatomy. Keith, I ask that you monitor your health and notify Coran or I if anything troubling should arise. For now, the rest of you are dismissed."

Keith only nodded, already standing and making for the door, clearly done with being the center of attention. Pidge moved toward Allura to take a seat on the steps, and Hunk murmured something about "a long nap" as he shuffled out of the room, still visibly nauseous.

Lance was after Keith in nothing flat, calling after him with a "Hey,  _hey_!" Keith stopped and turned, looking as if a portion of his energy had been sapped out the moment he'd heard Lance's voice.

"Lance, I  _really_  don't—"

"I'm sorry, and you did great."

"..."

Now  _ _this__  was hard to read. Keith looked taken aback, mouth opening to respond to Lance's blurting, but saying nothing, until he couldn't meet Lance's eyes anymore, expression stormy.

"Yeah. Real bang-up job..."

"No, really!"

Lance spoke quickly. _Crap_ , Keith didn't think he was making fun of him, did he? Why would he—

. . .

...that was a bad question.  _Anyway_.

"That's what I was gonna say before—I mean, ya know, before—"

He hesitated and then poked his own palm, and Keith raised an eyebrow.

"You're—...you've  _been_  doing a good job, and...I know it's been hard, it's been hard for all of us, but...yeah. Don't be so hard on yourself...good job."

 . . .

 . . .

There was brief moment of solemn passed between them. Shiro was a difficult subject to broach, mostly because no one was sure what had... _happened_  to him, or how to go about figuring it it out.

But after that moment, quiet, amused laughter bubbled from Keith. It sounded tired, but it was definitely laughter. Lance had  _ _seen__  him laugh from a distance, but never up close like this. And never from anything  _Lance_  had ever said. He was struck by it, quiet as it was. It was almost musical, and—

...wait, why was he laughing? This wasn't funny!

"What's so funny!? I'm trying to be nice!"

"I  _know_  you are!"

Keith's laughter trailed off. He finally looked back to Lance, and for the second time today, Lance's heart stopped. His smile (his  _smile_!) was so worn, but so sincere, just as sincere as Lance's attempts at praise and apology, and all he said was a quiet "Thanks."

And all Lance could say back was a stuttered "Y—yeah."

"...that all you wanted to say?"

"Yeah."

"Can I go to bed now?"

"...yeah."

"Cool. Night. Try and listen to me next time."

Keith turned his back on him and started heading down the hall. As far as their sense of time went in space, it was only noon. As Lance debated whether or not to say "Night" back, since it wasn't technically night, Keith turned, facing him as he walked backwards.

"Nice shot back there."

And he turned right back around and quickened his pace, vanishing behind the corner.

Lance stood rooted for what felt an hour before he decided, hey,  _he_  was pretty tired, too, tired and warmer than he'd ever felt, and he all but ran back to his room (while making sure Keith was gone; having rooms right beside each other, bumping into him again after all that would have been  _torture_ ).

He locked his door, bundled himself in blankets, and just as his fingers went to turn out the lights, he remembered the ferreret, and the eternal darkness of Ferrerus, and decided,  _wow_ , maybe he'd sleep with the lights on tonight. Or today.  _Whatever_ , he was sleeping. No more creepy metal plants. No more darkness. No more Ghost Planet.

. . . . . . .

Keith fashioned his thicker sheet over his window panel. The castle was currently orbiting in a way where the light from a distant star was beaming directly into his room, and it was giving him just the slightest headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. Long time writer, first Voltron writing. I had this idea a few days ago and it was honestly the first I've had in awhile where I wrote the skeleton of it down somewhere I wouldn't forget.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this road we go down.


	2. Keith, the Space Vampire

Keith had gone nights without sleep before. Nights into nights turning into weeks and weeks of anxiety-fueled nightmares that mercifully stopped not too long ago...for awhile, anyway. They'd had something of a quiet resurgence in the recent weeks, for obvious reasons. But those weren't the issue here.

The  _issue_  here was that Keith had lied in bed for almost four hours, tossing and turning. No position, no amount of punching his pillow, nothing was working. His mind raced, body ached, no matter how many times he closed his eyes, forced himself to stay still, there was no solace.

...water. Maybe he just needed a drink.

In his quick-paced exhaustion, Keith threw the covers away from himself and stood, almost immediately feeling his knees buckle. He let out a startled gasp, catching himself against the bed. Even in the darkness he'd made for himself, his vision blurred, head swimming. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, minor panic creeping through every inch of him.

Okay, this wasn't a water problem. This was a him existing problem. He needed to stand. He needed to get the others, someone, anyone. He needed to focus. Keep a level head...one foot in front of the other.

. . .

Keith brought himself up, a simple act that proved monstrously difficult,  _worryingly_ difficult as his knees locked.

"...alright..."

He reassured himself in a small pant, nodding once, and yet he still couldn't find the strength to move. Walk. _Go_. Get to the door!  _Why_  had he thought covering the window would be a good idea!? Even a little light might help right now.

A wave of nausea rolled over him, and any amount of energy he was putting into standing died, muscles going lax as he dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks, his head making full contact with the wall on the way down.

 

. . . . . . .

 

_DUNF_

" _AAH_!"

Lance sat up with a start, looking around wildly. What was that!? He'd just been enjoying the silence, the hum of the castle, the beautiful, _beautiful_ light, half asleep when something pounded against his wall.  _Hard_. Was that Keith? Or something else?

For the briefest moment, he wondered if one of the creatures, the ferrerets, had snuck into the castle, ready to wreak terror on them all, but that was impossible. That means they'd have to get in the Lions, or have tiny spaceships. They probably didn't have tiny spaceships, as oddly cute as that'd be.

...so then it was  _definitely_ Keith. Was he trying to get his attention? Lance waited; if it was an attention-getting sort of thing, Keith would bang on the wall again if Lance didn't respond...but then again, wouldn't he have just walked out of his room and knocked on Lance's door? Or barged in? Or even knocked twice? Why knock just once,  _really_  hard?

"...Keith?"

He called out, receiving no answer.

...okay...

Lance stood, stretching for a moment as he draped his blanket around his shoulders like a cape. After a few short steps he reached the wall and leaned in to listen, for what exactly, he wasn't sure, but what he got was total silence.

Keith  _had_  said he was gonna take a nap, so maybe he was already awake. Four hours seemed like a decent nap, in Lance's mind, but that still didn't explain the heavy sound. Or why he wasn't answering.

. . .

...oh...he was worrying too much! Keith was probably just trying to mess with him. Trying to spook Lance after seeing how freaked out he'd been on Ferrerus, getting back at him for getting Keith bit. Yeah! This was  _definitely_  just some kinda prank. Lance scoffed, smirking triumphantly at the wall. Nice try,  _Keith_ , but not today. He turned on his heel, blanket swishing as he made his way back to bed. Back to relaxation. 

. . .

. . .

Lance turned right back around and rapped his knuckles against the wall, three quick knocks.

"Hey, Keith?"

. . .

"Keeeiiith? You okay?" 

. . .

Lance tossed his blanket toward his bed, only half of it making it on the mattress as he stepped out of his room and made the very short trip to Keith's door.

"Keith? Buddy?"

The door slid open quickly, sensing Lance's approaching presence, and revealed to him almost pitch darkness. Lance's breath caught in his throat, but again, he realized that any threats were either in his imagination or far, far away from the castle.

"Keith, ya in here? Hell _o_ _aah_!?"

His question turned upward into a sharp yelp; as Lance entered Keith's darkened room, he'd immediately tripped on something very solid, sending him to the floor where his palms made a loud  _SMACK_  as he caught himself. He huffed, stumbling as he picked himself up and started to scold.

" _Jeez_ , man, I know it's your room, but ya still gotta pick up after yourself, don't be a—"

. . .

His voice died when he saw the leg. That was a leg. Lance had tripped over a leg.  _Keith_ ' _s_  leg, laying flat in front of the door frame, illuminated by the light from the hallway. Lance's blood ran cold as he leapt toward the light switch.

Keith was in a heap, his face devoid of color, his head at an uncomfortable angle with the wall. Pieces silently clicked together in Lance's head as he dropped to his knees beside him, and yet the moment his hands went to lift Keith's body from the floor, every single lesson he'd learned from that mandatory Pre-Med class freshman year at the Garrison was completely lost to him.

"Oh god, uh, uh,  _uh_ ,  _uh_... _oh_!"

His pulse! He placed two fingers on Keith's neck, trying to remember where that stupid artery was. He didn't actually get to complete that step, however, or need to, because at that moment, Keith made a sound. A delirious, low moan of pain. Oh thank God, he was alive! Lance heaved a sigh of relief before very quickly and cautiously lifting him and placing him back on the bed. Keith was breathing, shallow small breaths, as if he were freezing. 

"I'm gonna—just— _hang on_ , I'll be back, promise—"

He stuttered to Keith's body before bolting out the door and down the hall, yelling like a madman for anyone to hear, a cry for help.

 

. . . . . . .

 

His eyes dragged open, vision blurred. He saw shapes, heard muffled voices, suddenly there was a yell, " _He_ ' _s awake_!" and his eyelids fluttered.  _Focus_ , damn it.

Everything ran through a greenish-blue filter. The shapes became sharper, clearer, until Keith realized they were people, his friends, and that he was in a healing pod again.

Pidge and Allura were taking quick looks between him and something he couldn't see, probably a screen, some tests, while Hunk watched from a distance, fidgeting with his fingers and looking as if he were debating stepping closer. Coran hurried into the room holding some kind of object, but he was too far away for Keith to make out anything that was being said.

And then suddenly all he saw was _Lance_ , who'd run up from the side so fast he'd used the pod to stop himself, his palms flat against the glass, peering in at him with wide eyes, searching him with a worried gaze, until Keith saw it melt away. Lance's shoulders dropped, tension released, and he smiled in a way that Keith saw a burst of fog form on the pod's surface. His relief was visible, and it was immense. He smacked the glass in congratulations, grinning ear to ear, his eyes shining as he bounced back and pumped a fist.

" _Alright Keith_ , way to pull through!"

" _Lance_ ,  _don't hit the pod_!" scolded Allura.

" _Sorry_ , sorry, got excited!"

And then it was Allura that was looking in at Keith, and then everyone, but they were keeping their distance.

"Keith," Allura started, "can you understand what I'm saying?"

She was speaking so slowly...Keith nodded. He felt like absolute garbage, but yeah, he could see and hear. Allura smiled, decently masking over any anxiety she held.

Keith took a long collected breath, his limbs wobbling like strips of rubber as he made the effort to step through the barrier out of the healing pod. Allura took his arm in support as they walked toward Hunk, who'd retrieved a chair. Keith fell away and ended up sitting in a slumped position, breathing heavily from the minimal activity that took maximum effort.

"Coran, bring it here."

In his periphery he saw Coran approaching, and he could see now that the object in his hands was a bowl, a spoon sticking out from inside. Food? Keith shuddered, realizing only now just how _empty_ he felt. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Was it still today? He'd went to bed, woken up, blacked out...

"Just trust me when I say 'This oughta help,'" Coran said, with only the slightest hint of worry in his tone. Keith had no strength to argue or ask questions when he saw the goop on the spoon, a strange, shiny, slick grey substance, and he opened his mouth willingly.

"— _hegh_ _—"_

 _ _"__ Keith, you  _need_  to eat it."

Allura sounded stern but understanding, looking on in pity. 

It was  _vile_. It tasted as if someone had ground up moist soil and mixed it in with flavorless yogurt. The texture was horrific, grainy and gelatinous. Keith forced it down, panting and looking around with a glare. Allura moved to him and lifted his arm, examining the hand that the ferreret had bitten

"What's— _what is this_ , why'm I—"

"Take it easy, you'll knock yourself out again."

Pidge didn't so much as glance behind her as she spoke, her attention focused solely on rapid-fire typing, pulling up file after file of moving images from the podium, videos? One screen showed a line, and it branched to two, four, twelve, a hundred, thousands, lines upon lines creeping along and lengthening until, together, they took the familiar form of a human body and it's circulatory system... _Keith_ ' _s_  body and circulatory system.

"Got it," she said, zooming into a random cluster of veins.

Coran beamed, putting the spoon back in the bowl of putrid goo.

"And here I thought you were gonna need two scoops. Mapping Jelly tends be finicky. You're lucky!"

Mapping Jelly...?

Allura hurried to the podium, looking over the vein cluster Pidge had focused in on. Hunk had vanished at some point, and Lance was glancing between the imaging and Keith with interest.

"Could someone...what's going on...?"

His question came out weak, his throat dry. Just as he lamented never being able to get that water, Hunk returned, hurrying through the door with a tall glass of water and what looked like a cookie. He'd even gotten a straw, which he popped inside the glass as he gingerly handed the drink to Keith.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be able to hold it, so, ya know, yeah, I can hold it if you need it," he explained quickly, clearly nervous but fighting it. Keith nodded, hand trembling as he gripped the glass so hard he thought it might break.

"I—I think I'm good. Thanks, Hunk."

And he  _ _was__  good. Keith drank and felt the parched feeling disappear. Hunk stood awkwardly with the cookie for a good moment before gently placing it on Keith's leg and hurrying away to look at the data with everyone else.

So Keith was watching his own bloodstream. He could only assume what disgusting substances Mapping Jelly was made from, but it was clear that the purpose of it was to highlight and track internal systems. Useful.  _Gross_ , and he never wanted to eat it again, but useful.

"There. That's a pathogen."

Pidge paused the feed and pointed to a single blood cell. It looked withered, but more importantly, there was something else flowing with it, a microorganism. She let the feed run again and it became clear that _all_ of the blood cells had this same microorganism attached to them. Allura moved to take control of the monitors from Pidge and took it deeper into the cell. She looked furtively from screen to screen, brow knitted, growing more confounded by the second.

"...but the pod didn't—...I've never seen anything like this react so rapidly, it hasn't even been half of your Earth days... _this is unprecedented_ , he shouldn't even be—!"

. . .

Only the electric hum of lights and screens could be heard. Every head turned toward Keith, who just stared. It was as if everyone in the room talking about him had forgotten he was actually there. Allura took a breath, gathering herself before moving toward Keith. She spoke slowly, somewhat shaken.

"You—...currently, a foreign pathogen has entered your body. Our best assumption is that it came from the... _ferreret_ , as Lance has named it, and some sort of... _agent_  is at work. Pidge has informed me that human blood contains large amounts of iron and other substances. And this agent has been  _feeding_  on that iron faster than your body can produce it, while somehow simultaneously stimulating your internal organs to continue proper functionality...how are you feeling...?"

Her question lilted. She knew it was a bad question, but it was an impulse. It had the same general kindness and awkwardness of someone asking 'Are you okay?' to a person who'd just clearly shattered their femur.

...he'd been infected by that thing. That's all Keith really needed to know, the one true takeaway from Allura laying down information.

"...I'm alive...that's about it."

"...wonderful!"

Allura put her hands together in a light clap as she put on a smile. There was no hiding the abject terror in her eyes, however.

"Is he gonna be okay...?"

Lance spoke next, and it was like someone turned the gravity back on. Allura's smile fell, and she looked to Keith, and she hesitated just a bit too long before giving Lance a strong "Of course," before heading back to the podium.

"Take him into the kitchen. He needs nutrients, note down exactly what you give him. We'll be able to see how anything consumed affects these cells for the next hour."

"On it," Hunk replied, already hustling out of the room. The poor guy sounded relieved to be able to do something he knew he could  _ _really__  help with. Something that wouldn't make him squeamish.

A few short stumbles to the kitchen later, Lance and Pidge gently set Keith down at the table. Hunk had already brought out leafy greens. Nothing from Earth, but definitely edibles, something quick with no real prep required aside from rinsing. After the Mapping Jelly, anything would be better.

"I'm really gonna mix it up back there, okay? And the silverware's just for posterity, no judgement if you wanna just... _get in there_ , okay? I won't blame you. I'll be back."

And he vanished back to the kitchen again. Lance sat beside Keith while Pidge perched herself on the edge of the table, and they were both oddly quiet, looking from the food to their friend. Keith attempted using a utensil, but his hand was shaking so badly he opted to just pick up the leaves and tear into them.

. . .

" _OOOkay_ ," Lance started, skittering his chair away as Keith retched. Pidge had jumped up from the table, frantically looking from Keith to Lance for a moment before her gaze froze on Keith's glass.

"I—I'll go get more water," she stammered, running out of sight.

Keith spat what little food he'd attempted to eat into his napkin. Again, _vile_...and that made no sense. He'd eaten this before, _dozens_ of times. Was it his favorite? No, but not because it has tasted like actual  _ash_  in his mouth.

Lance was staring at him, clearly going over his choices in his head. Before Keith could say anything, Lance scooted his chair back to where he was before and slid the plate of greens away from Keith, murmuring "The next one'll be good."

The next plate was bread. Keith remembered Hunk baking this yesterday. He'd had some, they'd  _all_  had some, and it'd been  _great_. Warm and perfect. However, as he reached for the remainder of the loaf, fingers twitching, worry flooded through him. He tore a piece away and hesitated before placing it in his mouth.

. . .

Terrible. Maybe even worse than the greens. Keith couldn't even force himself to choke it down. As he added the glob of bread to his napkin refuse, he felt it again, this hollow ache in his stomach, a horrid emptiness that seemed to gnaw at him from the inside. His body, begging for sustenance, while at the same time viciously denying that fulfillment, was at total war with itself.

...what did he even  _look_  like right now? Ever since he'd stepped out of the pod, everyone had been acting skittish, except Lance. Lance was just being  _Lance_ , and lately, Keith actually wasn't sure what that meant anymore.

Hunk returned with a new platter, his face despondent as he saw Keith not touching the bread either. Pidge followed right after, placing the glass within Keith's reach and taking her place back on the table, though just about a foot further than where she'd been previously.

"This one's a little rare, sorry. It's still edible, I just figured speed was of the essence."

It was meat, and Keith would be damned if he didn't use a fork and knife for this one. The juices pooled at the bottom of the plate, and as much as he told himself he didn't care about making a mess, he didn't want to trouble anyone any more than he had to.

He used what little strength he had to jab his fork into his food and slowly carved through it with the knife until he had a decent chunk, and it dripped as he carried it toward his mouth. Please. Something.  _Anything_.

. . .

. . .

It wasn't good.

It wasn't awful.

Keith found he could chew it, and swallow it, and that alone was enough to get him to go for more. With each slice, more juice collected on the plate, and Keith could detect a metallic scent in the air. He ate, and he ate, wolfing down the meat, ignoring his water. If his stomach pain was diminishing, he couldn't tell, but he'd noticed that the shaking had stopped.

"There ya go, buddy," Lance assured softly, carefully patting Keith on the back. Pidge smiled, relieved that the retching had stopped, and while Hunk was grateful Keith seemed to be doing better, he was put off by just  _how_  undercooked the meat really was. His nerves must've gotten the better of him in the kitchen...and yet Keith was absolutely devouring it.

The sound of sprinting footsteps echoed from down the hall, growing closer, until Allura stopped in the door, panting, her eyes wide.

" _What_ is he _eating_ _!_?"

There was look of confusion and surprise on everyone's face, and Hunk just pointed to the plate. Allura rushed over, visibly recoiling for a moment as she saw the amount of juice seeping from the remnants of the meat, and then to Keith.

"Did you see something?" Pidge asked, but Allura remained quiet for another moment,

"...Keith."

She already had Keith's attention. Everyone did, totally at a loss for what was going on or why she seemed so freaked out.

"I'm going back to the control room. Count to ten...and drink the blood from the plate."

" _What_?"

Keith shouted first, disgust and shock still coming through in his weak voice, and everyone else had their own reactions. Hunk had one hand on his stomach and the other over his mouth. Lance stood, his hands braced on the table, immensely confused.

"Allura, I don't know what Pidge said to you, but humans don't drink blood!"

" _I never told her that_!"

" _Okay good_ , I'm  _glad you didn't_ , but I'll say it again, humans don't  _do_  that—"

" _I know humans don't drink blood_!"

Allura shouted, looking between them all with just as much confusion and then back to the plate.

"...there was a reaction. Just now, I presume when Keith started eating... _this_. Coran and I both witnessed it."

. . .

"Count to ten and drink it. We need to observe this. I'm sorry."

With a look of apology and fear, she darted from the room, and the reaction was instantaneous, everyone shouting all at once.

"She's not serious, right!? She can't be serious!," came from Lance, looking from the door to the meat to everyone else.

"Why would she make something like that up, though!? That's  _ghoulish_ , it wouldn't make sense for her to just—"

" _I'm sorry, I can't be here_ ," groaned Hunk, and he turned and went right back to the kitchen, and who could blame him? There was a high possibility his friend was about to slurp down a plate of blood. Just the thought was making his stomach turn.

"It's gotta be a joke, there's no way it's not a joke."

"I'm going to the control room, I need to see what—"

"—ten."

Keith picked up the plate and brought it to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as the juice, the blood, flowed freely down into his mouth, and he swallowed it quickly, refusing to let it sit for any longer than he had to. Amidst the chaos, he'd made peace; this might as well happen. It hadn't been a joke.

...and he realized in growing horror that the blood had tasted better than the meat.

He opened his eyes as he set the plate down.

Lance was aghast, jaw hanging open stupidly, and Pidge was rooted to her spot near the door, effectively having been stopped in her tracks by Keith's act.

. . .

" _Did he do it yet_!?" cried Hunk in the distance. " _Is he gonna do it_!? Actually, don't tell me, don't tell me."

The clack of the intercom rang loudly, startling everyone, but the most startled one, clearly, was Allura, her voice trembling in her announcement.

"Paladins, please come to the control room at once."

 

. . . . . . .

 

Keith could walk by himself. The hollow feeling was still there, but he could at least somewhat function like a human being. The trip to the control room was uncomfortably silent. No had spoken a word, or really made eye contact.

Now they were here, a large holovid of Keith's bloodstream hovering above them all, with Allura beneath it, looking extremely anxious.

"...I'm going to show you what we observed when Keith consumed the meat on its own."

And that was all she said. Zero pomp and circumstance as she gestured with her finger to prompt the footage. At first everything seemed normal, or as normal as a video of tainted blood cells flowing through a human body could be.

...but then suddenly there were _more_ blood cells. Healthy cells forming almost out of nothing. They were very few, only a few dozen visible in the short space made visible, but they were mostly definitely there, existing and multiplying among the infected cells.

" _This_  is when you drank the blood."

Her voice was quiet, gesturing again to switch panels, and on  _this_  one, there was an  _influx_. Thousands,  _millions_  of new cells mingling in Keith's bloodstream, almost instantaneously. And that was only in one microscopic spot. Allura panned out to show that Keith's body was teeming with new, clean cells.

"The pathogen is already attacking these new cells, but the fact is...Keith, upon consumption of blood, or rather, iron, diluted as it was, your body was able to form new material to work with..."

She looked him over, noticed the lack of trembling, the fact he could stand, and she swallowed.

"...how do you feel?"

This time, that was  _not_  a bad question. Keith did a quick self-survey; physically, he still felt like garbage, but nothing near what he'd been before. He had his basic motor skills back, still felt groggy, but not on the verge of passing out. Overall, halfway to decent, nowhere close to normal. Mentally, however, he was struggling with this new information, the fact that  _blood_  had made him feel whole again. And the pain in his stomach  _still_  hadn't subsided.

"I wouldn't say I'm ready for a fight."

"And no one's expecting you to do  _that_  right now."

Allura spoke hurriedly, closing the screen with a flick of her wrist and quietly putting her hands together. She looked as if she were trying to figure out how to say something.

"...Coran and I will be able to observe this new information in close detail, and that's what we'll be doing for the next few days. The data from the Mapping Jelly shows that it exists solely in your blood, so it's absolutely not contagious and contained only within you. We've already seen the pathogen take to the new cells, but considering the abundance and the time frame it took for it to infect your previous normal count, it should take at least an hour or two for them to work through before you—...well, what you're experiencing  _now_ , as far as we know, is only temporary; you'll be drained again...unless..."

. . .

"Are you saying Keith's a vampire?"

Lance's blurted question shattered the heavy atmosphere, but that didn't necessarily mean anything got lighter. Allura looked to him, utterly baffled.

"What is a vampire?"

" _They aren't real_ ," Pidge hurried, before any damage could done to Allura's knowledge of humanity. "They're made-up monsters that can't be in sunlight, and they feed on human blood to survive."

" _That's ghastly_! Why on earth would anyone make up something so—!?"

And only then did everyone realize that despite vampires being entirely fictional—this  _certainly_  was an interesting situation to make that claim in. Keith had no opinion. He was just tired. And annoyed. And very slowly feeling the effects of his recent 'meal' wearing off.

"...just tell me what I have to do," he said, a heavy weight of resignation in his voice. He was disgusted.  _Disgusted_. This was insanity, everything was happening so quickly, and he couldn't even bring himself to be terrified about it. Allura cleared her throat and nodded.

"The meat's blood was diluted, but the effects were fairly good.  _My_  assumption is that if you had a—"

Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat again, collecting herself.

" _If you had_  a regular, frequent supply of  _fresh_  blood, something undiluted, moreover...straight from the source...at the very least, you could perform your daily activities in relative comfort while the symptoms are staved off."

. . .

"Of course, this would only be until we figure out how to reverse-engineer the pathogen. This  _certainly_ won't be something that goes on forever, ahaha..."

. . .

She was met with deafening silence, the implication of her words sweeping through the room like a tornado.

Keith couldn't bring himself to turn around and look at his friends. He couldn't let them see the fear. The total loss in understanding. One minute he was sleeping, the next he was being told only blood could sustain him. It was grotesque, it was _horrifying_ , it was—

"You said it wasn't contagious?"

Keith  _ _whirled__. Lance. Lance had spoken, and he sounded  _off_.  _Way_  off. All eyes were on Lance, a complicated expression on his face. Allura hesitated before nodding.

"Of that, we're positive."

"I'll do it."

"...you'll do what?"

"Blood, I'll—I can give blood."

 . . .

The room  _erupted_ , except for Keith. He just stared, incredulous, as chaos ensued.

"Lance, I don't think you understand—"

"What don't I understand!? He  _needs_  blood, I  _have_  blood. Hunk'll faint, Pidge is too small—no offense Pidge—"

"It's fine, you're right."

"—and you and Coran don't have what we have.  _I can help him_!"

Keith watched as Lance finally looked at him, breaking their gaze almost immediately as he walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Lance looked back to Allura, and from here, Keith could see genuine  _ _pain__  in his eyes.

"This happened because of me. Let me help him."

... _what_?

"Lance—"

Keith started, about to protest, but Lance took a step back, his stance firm.

"I know it's bad! This is _all_ bad! But if I can help, I wanna help. This is the only way!"

. . .

Lance quickly turned to Allura and asked "Is this the only way?"

Allura looked between the two of them, stunned at the display, before nodding quickly.

"Until we develop an antibiotic, y–yes."

He turned back to Keith, a new intensity in his gaze.

" _This is the only way_ ,  _Keith_. Please. Let me help you..."

Keith didn't even know where to start. This was so much to take in. He wanted so badly to say no, but he could already sense the beginnings of nausea rippling through him. He had two options: misery...or drink Lance's blood.

Hunk and Pidge looked on in awe, and Allura looked as if she wanted to interject, but before anyone could say anything, Keith answered.

"...okay."

He never really had a choice.

. . .

. . .

" _Well_ , _that settles that_ ," Allura said just a bit too loudly. "Y—You'll probably want to...get to it, I suppose. Keith, you're beginning to look a little peaked again.  _Lance_."

Lance flinched.

"I—I don't know how long it takes for humans to bleed to death, but...please don't let that happen to you. Feed him for twenty of your Earth minutes, _no more than thirty_ , does that sound alright?"

She looked to Pidge, desperate for answers, and got back a confused "... _sure_!?"

"Twenty'll be enough," Lance confirmed with surprising confidence. "My family and I donated all the time back home. It was usually twenty minutes. Maybe another hour to get the machines ready."

. . .

".....oh so you've _done this before_! That's so— _good_!"

Coming from a planet that didn't have Red Cross, and having also just vehemently been told that 'Humans don't drink blood,' Allura was masking her horror and confusion at Lance's declaration of 'donating with machines' rather well.

"...well. I'd say we made some good progress today," she continued slowly. "Everyone can return to what they were doing...Keith, the Mapping Jelly is effective for another vargas. So again, I'd say get to it. This is all conjecture until we see results."

. . .

"Good luck."

And she was gone, walking right out to get back to the lab to shake off her discomfort and report everything to Coran, leaving in her wake four extremely confused human teenagers. No one said a word, only looking to each other with worry.

"...come on guys, it's no big deal! What's a little blood between friends, right?"

Lance broke the silence, forcing a laugh. He was stiff, patting Keith on the back again and already starting to lead him out of the room with a "Come on, let's go." Pidge and Hunk stared after them, utterly stunned, until the doors shut behind them.

They walked on, Keith too shocked for the first minute to really say much of anything, before finally, he stepped forward and turned to face Lance, effectively stopping him in his path.

"What are you doing?"

Lance frowned, walking around Keith and giving him an annoyed look.

"Helping you. Come on."

Keith didn't come on. He didn't move an inch.

"Why are you doing this...?"

. . .

Lance stopped, marching back toward Keith. His voice sounded strained.

"Because I'm glad you covered for me, but you getting bit  _was my fault_. Just...let me own up to that, okay? I didn't listen to you. I  _should've_  listened to you. And now you look like—you're— _you're sick_ ,  _Keith._ You're really,  _really_  sick, and you're no good to anybody right now, and you're blaming yourself for it, which is  _double_  not good for anybody. It's  _stupid_ , just..."

He took Keith's shoulders, frustration fading. Now he just looked desperate. Racked with guilt. His grip tightened, and at the same time Keith felt the shaking start back in his fingertips.

"This is literally the only thing I can do. And it's the only thing any of us can do. Just— _help me_ help you. Please."

He hadn't been able to get a read on Lance all day, not since Ferrerus, where he'd just been something of a smartass, but now, everything was clear and still somehow complicated. Lance was determined and angry, and hurting.

. . .

If they stopped walking now, Keith wouldn't be able to walk later. All he said was "Fine" under his breath, his mind swimming as they headed for Keith's room, their pace quick.

It wasn't much further, until finally, they reached the door, and Keith stumbled through the threshold to collapse onto his bed. His soft bed. He just wanted to sleep. That's all he wanted, but Lance sat beside him carefully, obviously somewhat uncomfortable from just being here, in Keith's space.

"...why's your window covered?"

Lance nodded toward the blanket draped over Keith's panel, and Keith opened his mouth to answer—and stopped short.

"What? What's up?"

. . .

"...the light from the sun we're orbiting gave me a headache..."

. . .

"... _oh_?"

Lance covered his mouth, nodding as if totally understanding, but Keith _knew_ what he was thinking, and it pissed him off. He propped himself up, glaring.

"I'm  _not a vampire_."

"Oh, yeah  _totally_."

Lance's teasing only pissed him off more. In one swift motion, Keith reached under his pillow, retrieved his knife, and slammed it on the mattress beside Lance's leg. If he weren't so tired, he might have laughed at how quickly that dumb grin fell off Lance's face. All he could muster was a small huff.

"I  _was_  gonna ask how we were gonna do this..." Lance murmured, picking up the knife cautiously, as if he expected it to burn him. As he examined the blade, Keith realized he hadn't really let anyone else check it before. It was honestly strange seeing it anywhere but his own hands.

"Don't hurt yourself too bad," Keith suggested, his attempt at lightening the mood. His attempt at distracting himself from what they were about to do.

"Yeah, got it."

Lance sounded certain for all of five seconds as he grasped the hilt, determination on his face, and then—

. . .

. . . 

"Where do you want it?"

...the  _hell_  kind of question was that!?

"What do you mean, 'where do I want it?'"

"I  _mean_ —" Lance began, gesturing with the knife as he talked. Color crept to his cheeks, and as he continued, he stopped meeting Keith's eyes, "—you're gonna have your mouth on me, so I  _figured_  I'd be  _polite_  and ask _where_ , like...where's the least awkward for you?"

. . .

If Keith had enough blood to go his cheeks, they'd be  _blazing_  red.

" _I_ — _I don't care_! It's  _your_  body,  _you_ ' _re_ the one that's cutting yourself open,  _just pick somewhere_!"

" _Fine_ ,  _whatever_!"

Lance took a breath, and to Keith's absolute  _ _horror__ , he began to raise the blade to the side of his neck.

" _Not_ _THERE_!"

" _SEE_!? See, you  _do_  care! Just tell me somewhere else!"

" _Lance_ ,  _I don't give a f_ —..."

Keith trailed off and groaned. The yelling, the frustration, the exertion, everything culminated in a wash of exhaustion. His head drooped, nearly blacking out for the second time that day. His vision was dull, but he could very distinctly make out the look of panic on Lance's face, and hear him say "Okay" to himself. Then there was a small grunt of pain, followed by calculated breathing—and a hand on the back of Keith's head, gently pushing him, leading him toward a slit in Lance's forearm that was currently pooling up and out with blood. 

"Disgusting," Keith's brain said.

" _Finally_ ," Keith's body screamed, drowning out his thoughts. He shuddered, the effects nearly immediate as he found the strength to sit up, hold Lance's arm in place, and just... _drink_. And drink, and drink...there was relief. He wasn't close yet, but he knew that aching hunger would be subsided in twenty minutes. It was terrible, how eager he was. This wasn't normal, but it was exactly what he needed.

He stopped for a quick breath, catching Lance in his periphery. He'd been staring again, and the moment Keith had let go, he'd looked away, staring dead at the wall.

"...does this hurt...?"

Keith's voice was full,  _rich_ , nearly normal, if not very out of breath. It was working. He didn't wait for Lance's reply before continuing to drink, but he did get a response.

"I'm good."

...how to the point.

Keith drank without guilt, without worry, his energy returning in spades. He could literally feel it coursing through his veins. A minute passed in silence...or, not quite in silence. He heard Lance exhale slowly, saw him drumming his fingers on Keith's bed, and suddenly, Keith became painfully aware of how much _noise_ he was making. The slurping, the wetness, every swallow...

"You know, you can _talk_ or...something..."

Keith threw the suggestion out into the world, and he could actually feel the tension in Lance dissipate.

"Oh thank god, okay...uh..."

Keith drank. He waited. He deliberated. This might not be the worst thing that's ever happened to him, at this rate. Allura and Coran were hard at work figuring out how to fix this, and in the meantime...there was this. It was disgusting, but as hard as it was for Keith to admit, he was already past that.

They could make it through this. He and Lance would be fine. Hell, things might even be better for the two of them, by the time this was said and done. How could it possibly not be?

. . .

"...s'it good?"

Keith flew up from Lance's arm, looking at him with incredulity. 

"Did you just ask meif your blood— _are you serious_!?"

" _Look_ , you said talk, what else am I supposed to talk abo— _don't let it get on your bed_!"

Keith swore, half upset he'd wasted blood and half upset that now he'd have to do laundry.

Alright. This might be a little rougher than he'd anticipated, but at the very least, now Keith had the strength to argue.


	3. Lance, the Midnight Snack

__——_ Then  _——_ _

Lance was leaning against him just a little too hard as they walked. Keith huffed, readjusting the arm around his shoulders as they went step by step. Not too much further to the control room. The healing pod.

Keith was tip-top, all systems go. Like nothing had ever happened, a startlingly stark contrast to the walking husk he’d felt like before. He felt normal, he felt _good_ , no pains, no delirium. He honestly felt he could get some training in later today.

Meanwhile, Lance kept tripping over his own feet, nearly dead weight as Keith struggled to keep the support he had on him.

"Oh  _come on_ ,  _Lance_."

" _I got it_ , I got..."

Lance waved him off dismissively and stood on his own, wobbling for a moment before walking just ahead of Keith. He squinted back at him, his every step with purpose and forced balance.

"I told you I've done this before."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..."

"...said I'd do _whatever it takes_."

"I know you did."

Thank everything, there were the doors to the control room, not much farther now. Lance grinned and quickened his pace, causing Keith to bristle and chase after him, tension mounting.

"Stop pushing yourself!"

Lance groaned dramatically, turning to walk backwards as he spoke.

"I'm  _not_ pushing myself, I'm  _fine_ , and look at  _you_!  _You're_  fine! It's gonna be  _fine_."

Just like that, it wasn't fine. Lance had tried turning back to face forward, and in doing so, he'd stumbled again, sending him falling through the now opening control room doors. Keith swore, dashing forward and just barely managing to catch Lance before he could full-face crash to the hard floor.

" _I said don't push yourself_ ,  _moron_!"

Keith glanced to his right, having caught something in his periphery, and he saw Pidge, Hunk, and Allura. They'd clearly been observing the holovid, which, at this point in time, just looked like an average video you'd see in any high school science class, ' _This is your bloodstream_!' Not a pathogen to be seen. Nothing but rich, healthy red blood cells.

Their attention had been ripped away by Keith and Lance's sudden appearance, and now they were staring, mouths open, frozen, concerned, somewhat terrified, towards Keith, normal as normal could be, and Lance, limp and delirious in his arms, whining " _I said I'm fiiine_!"

. . .

"... _help_ me!?"

Keith shouted, voice cracking, and suddenly everyone moved to assist, Allura pulling up the pod while Hunk and Pidge helped Keith get Lance the rest of the way to it.

"With how much you consumed, it shouldn't be very long at all for the pod to replenish him," Allura spoke, and...that was it. Once Lance was placed in stasis, no one said a word, and Keith felt a small spike of frustration.

"What?"

" _Nothing_! Nothing, you just—you look— _normal_. You look  _great_!"

Allura smiled, worried but still relieved. Her hypothesis had been correct. Keith looked from her to Lance, keeping her tuned in as she continued.

"Well, we could see how well it was working from out here. I suggest you two keep this up while Coran and I keep running diagnostics."

"And Lance is gonna be good soon? Like,  _soon_ soon?"

Hunk piped up, obviously very worried about seeing his friend so drained. Allura nodded firmly, still smiling as she examined the pod's readings.

"From the looks of it, he won't be in there for any longer than thirty of your Earth minutes."

Relief spread through the room, particularly through Keith. Thirty minutes out of commission after twenty minutes of feeding; less than an hour out of Lance's day meant Keith could go on to do other things. And then they'd  _both_ be fine.

"You'll still want to keep in check with yourself, Keith," Allura added, caution in her tone. "Obviously if something doesn't feel right, go to Lance straightaway. No exceptions."

 

_——Now——_

 Four in the morning.

As Keith looked in his bathroom mirror, the hunger having needled him awake from a decent slumber, he realized he looked like Death incarnate. Those worried stares, everyone keeping their distance on day one, it finally made perfect sense. Put plainly, he looked washed out, a hard contrast between his black shirt and now nearly translucent skin. Faint dark rings had formed under his eyes, and his grogginess (both from having just woken up as well as, well, the  _ _other__  obvious thing) made him look listless. Lifeless.

He groaned, frustrated. Fourteen hours. Twenty minutes had gotten him through well over half a day, but of course they'd started in the _middle_ of the day, which landed Keith exactly where he was now; weakening and hungry, angry and confused in the dead of night. They'd all gone to bed ages ago. Keith had spent most of his well time training, getting the stiffness out of his muscles. Real food still tasted foul, which had disappointed him a bit more than he'd expected, but it was what it was.

Lance had made a perfect "recovery," the cut in his arm fully healed and his body full of new blood. Time passed and it was made totally apparent that Keith's condition was contained to just him. Lance was loud, excited, a little obnoxious...Lance was Lance. No sickness in sight. The look on his face when he saw Keith fully well, it went from shock to that dumb self-satisfied smile he did when he was about to tell a bad joke.

' _Looks like Vitamin Me did ya pretty good_ , _huh_?'

Keith couldn't help but smack his wall in exasperation. The pain in his stomach was light, a mild discomfort if anything, but it was still enough to keep him awake. It was something he knew that left unattended to, would only get much worse until he couldn't take care of it himself anymore. Who knew how he'd be in an hour? Half an hour?

. . .

He couldn't wait until morning...

. . .

Keith smacked his wall again and left his bathroom, heading towards his door and out into the dim hall. They liked to lower the lights and window transparency after a certain time, at least simulating a proper night environment while the castle was in orbit. Keith could see just fine as he stopped in front of Lance's door, raised his fist, and—hesitated. He hesitated, he took a small, calming breath, and he knocked much softer than he'd initially planned.

. . .

 _kunk_ – _kunk_

"Lance...?"

His voice was soft but aimed directly toward the door. He didn't want to disturb anybody, except Lance, of course. Keith felt bad about doing this to him, but he also felt bad in general, so he was able to bypass any guilt fairly quickly. He knocked again, a little harder.

Behind the doodle he heard footsteps, slow shuffling, and a hand smacking the wall multiple times until finally, the door slid open, revealing Lance in his robe and slippers, a beauty mask covering his eyes. He was bracing himself against the metal frame, clearly drowsy as Keith took a step back.

"Wazzup, we under attack?" he mumbled, voice thick as his hand fumbled to remove the mask with a worrying lack of urgency, if they were indeed under attack. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and once he focused, he saw that it was Keith who'd woken him up. Lance's brows furrowed as he transcended from one level of sleepy confusion to total bewilderment. " _Keith_? It's the middle of the night!"

As Lance gawked at him, Keith suddenly realized...he had absolutely no clue what the  _hell_ he was supposed to say. He opened his mouth, but words failed him.

' _If something doesn't feel right, go to Lance straightaway_.'

Yeah  _okay_ , and  _then_ what!? ‘I need blood?’ Absolutely not. ‘I’m sick again?’ Think, think, he had to answer _now_.

. . .

"I'm hungry."

Now Lance looked annoyed, eyes narrowing. Keith just stared, weighing his options; writhing in pain for the next hours seemed like a welcome alternative to this living hell he was currently inhabiting,  _why had he said that_!?

"...okay,  _and_? You wanna go get a midnight snack or something?"

. . .

. . .

"...Lance—"

" _OH_."

Lance shouted, eyes wide with realization as his voice echoed down the hall. Keith reacted out of reflex, sputtering as he pushed at Lance, admonishing him in a quiet hiss.

"You're gonna wake everyone up!"

" _I'M the midnight snack!_ "

" _What_!?  _No_ —I mean—shut _up_!"

Keith put his hands up in a 'keep it down' gesture and glared. Lance nodded quickly, suddenly looking much more awake than he had ten seconds ago, but when he spoke again, thank God, it was below indoor voice.

"You—you're hungry  _now_."

"...yes."

Why was Keith feeling so skittish all of a sudden? Was it because of how late it was, how tired he was? He hadn't really had a choice last time, it was an emergency. Maybe it was because this was  _voluntary_. This was Keith being an active and aware participant.

"Just—maybe five minutes. Just to hold me off until morning...earlier got me to now, so..."

The castle's hums were all he heard for awhile. Lance took him in, not so much mulling over any decision he was making so much as just...looking over Keith. The pale skin, the dark circles, even in he dark he could tell Keith was reverting.

"How is it?" he asked, finally stepping out, the door sliding shut behind him. Keith relaxed, letting out a small breath as he led the way towards his room.

"It's not like before," he replied, keeping his voice just below a whisper. "It just started back up, I can't sleep..."

"Think it oughta be a morning-night kinda thing?"

Keith nodded, his door opening as they approached. He'd left the bathroom light on, and frankly, that was as much light as he wanted right now.

"Makes sense."

"Cool. Breakfast and dinner."

"Shut up."

...it was strange to be planning this out so casually, but Keith supposed that was just how tired they both were. They'd done this once already, it was still going to be weird, but here they were. This was part of their life for the time being. 

Lance yawned as he sat on Keith's bed, stretching and making himself comfortable in a criss-cross position, his head resting against the wall. Keith slipped his knife out from beneath his pillow and went to wash it (again) in the sink. He glanced from the water running over the blade to see Lance in the light, his eyes closed.

"Don't fall asleep on my bed."

"I  _won't_ , I won't, geez."

Lance sat up with an annoyed huff.

"Is that any way to treat your guests?"

Keith ignored him, wiping the knife dry and returning to the bed. Lance already had his hand out to take the blade from him, once against turning it over and examining it as Keith sat beside him, just outside the rectangle of light the bathroom gave off.

"Same spot?"

"Yeah, sure."

Keith honestly didn't care, so long as it wasn't the neck. The image that conjured was just too—well, he didn't want to think about it. He wasn't a vampire, damn it.

Lance flexed his fingers for a moment before gripping the hilt of Keith's knife, and after a moment's hesitation, he made a small slit in his skin. He and Keith winced simultaneously, Lance from the sting of pain and Keith from witnessing it.

Almost immediately, red surfaced, and this time Keith needed no prompt or guidance as he moved to cover the spot with his mouth. He was a bit slower on the uptake this time, still decently conscious and socially aware as opposed to before. He drank, eyes fluttering shut as the taste of sweet relief started to ease the pain within. The guilt of waking Lance up, the embarrassment of how Keith had asked him for help, the disgusting act itself, they were all minor in his mind. He'd make it up to Lance, not that Lance was really making it a big deal. He'd actually surprised Keith by being so...compliant.

' _Help me help you_.'

He drank gently, as quietly as he could, holding Lance's arm by his wrist, wishing he'd asked him to move just a little more towards the right; Keith was half-illuminated, and he wasn’t sure if the bathroom had always been so bright or if this was a new development brought on by the pathogen.

"I was having a dream."

Keith stopped for only a split second before remembering what a disaster that had been the last time, and he hurriedly returned to his meal. Another oddity this situation had brought about? He was grateful to hear Lance speak. Something just seemed inherently strange about doing this in total silence...

"So my family donates blood all the time, right?"

. . .

 _Really_!?

Keith stopped, using his thumb to cover the cut as he looked to Lance, irritated.

"Does it  _have_ to be about blood?"

Lance sent back a small scowl.

"It's not about  _blood_ , it's about my  _family_. Shut up and eat, from what I've been told, I'm good stuff."

...unbelievable.

Keith released his thumb and caught the rush of blood before it could go anywhere but his mouth, and he listened to Lance all the while.

"I mean the dream itself's not that important, not unless you care about space dolphins, but my family was there, and then you woke me up, and it got me thinking about the blood drives back home. It was always this huge thing, my mom and dad, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, every time there was one comin’ up, everyone got together, and we'd have this huge meal the night before, and it was just...great. And then we'd all meet up at the drive the next day. Well, I mean, not all at  _once_ , Dad went after work and Aunt J. would stay with Maddie and Marco until Mom and I got home because they're still too little, ya know? And  _then_ Aunt J. would go... _man_ , you’d think the whole needle thing and sitting still for an hour’d wig ‘em out, but it only took me two minutes to convince them they didn't have to be afraid, all I had to says was 'You get juice and cookies after' and they  _flipped_. One time they tried sneaking in the van and Mom had to shoo 'em back in the house, and Maddie asked if she'd get a whole _box_ of cookies if she gave _all_ her—"

Lance's story trailed into quiet laughter, and Keith only continued to drink, his thoughts drifting to the image of the large, happy family Lance had projected for the Paladins to see way back when. The two small children with big smiles standing in front.

Maddie and Marco...

"One time they actually asked Mom why everyone got so excited about it, why we treated it like such a big deal, like Christmas or something, and she said 'It's better to do something that can help tomorrow, today.' And like—that's really good. Grandma told her that. I mean, when you got hurricanes and floods and whatever other dumb bad stuff that happens, it's better to just do something when you're okay than it is to wait until you  _can't_ do anything when you  _ _need__  to do something. Ya know? ...oh, I shouldn't ask you questions."

Keith slowly sat up and took a breath, covering the cut with his palm and wiping his mouth with his other hand. Lance searched him, inquisitive. Keith nodded, still catching his breath.

"...yeah, I understand.

"You think you're good?"

Another, smaller nod.

"Yeah."

"Nice."

Lance smiled, taking his arm and covering the cut himself as he moved to stand. Considering how little blood he'd lost this time, he was still ship-shape. If anything, somehow, he seemed lighter than before. Keith watched him step into the bathroom to start rinsing off the slight mess they'd made as well as the cut itself, leaving Keith with his thoughts, to process all this new information. He wasn't really sure what to say, if there _was_ anything to say.

"I'm probably just gonna spend the rest of the night in the pod."

Oh _now_ there was something to say.

"Don't do that."

Keith's demand was solid, a concerned frown on his face. Lance looked puzzled, holding out his arm with an expression that only be read as a confused ‘Dude.’.

"Keith, I'm bleeding out, here."

"I didn't mean  _don't go to the pod_ , I meant don't  _sleep_ in the pod. Look, I'll walk you there and make sure you get in okay and then I'm going to bed. And then you better go back to your room."

. . .

"...geez, _alright_."

Lance shrugged, already heading for the door as Keith stood, strength fully restored. Or rather, his ability to sleep. If anything, he now felt a healthy amount tired as opposed to him creeping up to Death’s door. They stepped out into the darkened halls, their footsteps light.

Lance looked Keith up and down and turned back to the front, a smug smile on his face. Keith's brows knitted.

"What?"

"Oh _nothing_ ," Lance started. He turned his head to Keith, still smiling that smile. "Just you bein' all worried about me making it to the pod, getting a good night’s sleep. It's like you  _care_ about me or something."

Keith's annoyance furthered. He almost would have preferred Lance as a wobbly mess. He rolled his eyes, looking away and focusing on the hall ahead.

"Of course I care about you, and I also care about you sleeping and healing right. The way it is now, your life's _my_ life, so you can't—"

. . .

Keith stopped and turned around, because  _ _Lance__  had stopped. He was just standing stock still in the hall, holding his arm, staring at Keith in shock.

"What?"

" _Really_?"

"'Really' what!?"

"You care about me?"

. . .

"...what do you mean ' _really_?'  _ _Yes__ , don't be stupid. You're a member of the team, aren't you?"

Was this a joke? Lance still looked so  _perplexed_ , finally breaking his gaze with Keith to look at the ground thoughtfully. His next word was a quiet "Huh" and then he looked up, at nowhere and no one in particular, smiling a small tired smile.

" _Wow_ , okay..."

"You done?"

Keith raised a brow, and Lance nodded, walking to catch up to Keith, and they kept going. Neither of them said anything more after that. Keith deliberated whether or not Lance had actually gone  _all this time_  thinking that Keith had hated him, while Lance had just...the  _dumbest_ smile on his face.

They reached the control room, and Keith's finger hovered over the podium before finding the button that would bring up the healing pod. He stepped down and followed Lance the rest of the way, giving him a stern look.

"I'm not kidding. Don't sleep in the pod. Get in, get out, and go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha."

Lance held out his arm, now only lightly smattered in blood, and looked at Keith expectantly.

"Last call?"

"I'm good, thanks..."

"Cool. See ya at breakfast."

Lance winked before turning and stepping up through the plasma that turned solid behind him. Keith watched him get comfortable, take a small breath and...boom, he was out like a light.

' _See ya at breakfast_.'

Keith sighed. Only Lance could make something like this seem so... _fine_. If he was apprehensive, he wasn't letting it show through. And aside from the blatant vampire jokes, which mercifully, there had been none this evening, Keith could admit the other jokes were _almost_ funny. He stayed only for a moment longer, watching Lance rest, before turning on a heel and heading for the door.

. . .

Blood drives. Hurricanes. Maddie and Marco, Aunt J., all these things swirled in Keith's mind as he moved down the hall. Lance had said a  _lot_ , probably because he was tired, but...it'd been interesting. It'd definitely taken Keith's mind off the feeding. His own memories of family were fuzzy, disconnected, worrying, so...somehow, it was almost comforting to hear about Lance's. It sounded like a nice way to live, surrounded by people who cared about you, and you cared about them.

That's how Keith felt now. His friends. This family. He'd fight for them all.

...and yet Lance seemed so taken aback a moment ago. At the very  _notion_ that Keith cared about him.

He frowned as he reached his room and stepped into the darkness. Keith retrieved his knife, went to scrub the now dry blood from its tip, and slipped it back under his pillow where it belonged. His body ached with exhaustion, normal exhaustion, the kind being awake at four-thirty in the morning usually brought, and he was glad to finally lie down and feel  _ _peace__. He'd have this for another few hours, and then he'd have breakfa— _he'd drink again_  in the morning, and then he and Lance can work with a set schedule. It sounded good and fair. So now it was a cumulative forty minutes with Lance, and an hour in the pod. Still decent.

If things kept up this way, Keith would learn  _ _way__  more about Lance in the time before Allura and Coran found that cure, or medicine, or whatever.

From the sound of it, Lance needed to learn just as much about Keith.

Sleep took him gently, swiftly, and he had no dreams. Only thoughts of what his future held, and of the McClain family back on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just wanted to say thank you for the support and enthusiasm! I'll try to be more frequent with the updates.
> 
> I'd like to thank one of you in particular. Zuzu, your comments were an absolute dream. I was absolutely floored when they came up in my e-mail, and I won't lie, I teared up a bit; I've written fic for six years and have only received reviews as sincerely kind as yours a handful of times. I attempted to respond personally, but each time I'd get overwhelmed and wouldn't know where to begin, so I decided I'd just do it here. Your kindness came to me on a day I greatly needed positivity in my life, and for that, I cannot thank you enough. Thank you for the time you spent to reassure myself that what I do is worthwhile. Bless you, and I hope you continue to enjoy "Deficient" and any future works I write. Have a wonderful day.


	4. Allura, the Weary Confidante

—— _Morning_ ——

He padded this thumb where a scar would be,  _should _ be, at one point pressing his nail in until he felt a slight sensation.

As the elevator ascended, floor after floor zipping by, so too did Lance's nerves, and he tugged the sleeve of his jacket back down. No matter how much time he spent going over his words, how to phrase what he was thinking, nothing sounded right. Not even so much ' _right_ '; he knew exactly what was wrong—if wrong was the right word? He groaned, confusing himself more as heat crept to his cheeks. Sleep hadn't come back easy, and it'd only been an hour since his and Keith's morning session.

Lance's nose crinkled. 'Session' sounded way too clinical. 'Feeding?' No, Keith wasn't an animal—oh, whatever. They'd done their  _thing_ , and now Lance felt fine and dandy after a short nap in the healing pod.

Well, _physically_ he felt fine and dandy...

The elevator slowed, the momentum catching gently in his stomach as he came to a stop. When the doors opened, he saw the lab. Holovids drifted above, their visuals shifting and shimmering with characters Lance couldn't read, presumably data. A small shell of something sat on a nearby desk, a hollow cube. Parts lie beside it; clearly whatever it was was still in the early stages of progress. At the center of it all was Allura. She sat at a small table, her back hunched, shoulders taut. Her hair was bunched into a messy bun, functioning solely for practicality over looks.

Lance stepped in, opening his mouth to say hello, but was cut off by a sharp yell, an _infuriated _ yell from Allura, something Altean, and she smacked her palm against the desk. With a violent wave to her left, one of the holovids fizzled out of existence. Lance flinched back, watching as she put her head in her hands, mumbling something unintelligible.

. . .

"...you okay—?"

" _Lance_ —!"

Lance flinched again as Allura shot up, her demeanor doing a complete 180°. She looked surprised, but at the same time, utterly exhausted. He'd seen her like this before, when Zarkon had had them on the run. Almost a week with no sleep...under no circumstances did Lance _ever_ want to live like that again.

Allura smiled tiredly, sitting back down and waving away some more of the projections. When she spoke, it was quiet, light...somewhat dejected.

"Forgive me. For the past four vargas, I thought that I'd uncovered something in the sample we took from Keith in the pod...it's been like this all night, though. After so many botches, I ought to be used to it."

She sighed, pulling up a new file and inputting random strings of Altean symbols.

"Did you need something?"

"Oh no, I mean, I can come back later, it's not—ya know."

Lance waved his hands dismissively, laughing as he took a step back and leaned against the desk that had the cube skeleton.

"So...what's this thing?"

Allura's smile faded, and Lance immediately felt bad.

"Well, until I can configure the outer structure's materials and how dense it would need to be, nothing yet. Perhaps it's nothing at all. I might ask Pidge to assist me if I can actually reach any sort of solution aside from it. Consider it a potential last resort."

She gave Lance a look that he recognized all to well from his own family; 'spit it out' truly  _was _ universal.

"If you have something you need to say, Lance, please just say it. My having not slept is hardly an issue compared to the situation we're in now."

. . .

Lance let go of the breath he'd been holding, and he stopped meeting her gaze.

"...its...about Keith."

Crap.  _Crap_ , she looked more awake now, and worried.

"Has something new developed? Are you feeling alright? Altea help us if we have _two _ Paladins out of—"

" _Nonono_ , everything's fine! He's—I— _we're _ fine."

Lance hurriedly waved his hands, laughing it off, and he received a slow look of confusion from Allura.

"...alright...then what is it  _ exactly about Keith_ ?"

The patience was wearing thin. Lance swallowed and forced himself to look her in the eye, and after taking a shaky, deep breath—

"Okay so the blood thing's going fine, right? He's training when he's done, I'm doin'  _my _ thing after I'm outta the pod, we're cool. I just kinda had a  _question_ , and like I said,  I'm _fine_. I'm good to go. And you might not even know the answer, but I figured—"

" _Lance_."

" _Sorry_ , yeah, _is it supposed to feel good_?"

. . .

He'd said it so quickly it hadn't even registered, on top the fact the question had gone up several notes with every other syllable. Heat flooded his face, a mental shutdown underway as Allura raised her brows at him.

"Does  _w_ _hat_ feel—do you mean the supplementing?"

She stood, and Lance hesitated before nodding. ' _Supplementing_.' That was even worse than 'session.' Hell, he might just  use 'session' now.

"I—I mean, it's not like I'm—"

" _Lance_ , I need you to tell me  _exactly _ what sensations you're feeling. This could be some sort of side effect of the pathogen...you looked flushed—"

"Nope! No I don't!"

He quickly turned from her, looking towards the elevator.

"I don't feel sick or anything, it's just like—..."

Oh he  _hated _ this. He shrunk into his jacket, embarrassment creeping through him. When he spoke again, it was muffled by his collar.

. . .

"...it's  _tingly_..."

"Numb?"

Allura stepped into his line of vision, demanding attention, and this time Lance didn't move. He did, however, take to looking at the panels in the ceiling. So white and clean; he wondered about the last time they'd gotten dusted. Not that there was really ever any dust in the castle.

"Not  _numb_ , just like... _good _. Like, uh—I—I dunno, like—... _I dunno_!"

Lance knew exactly what it felt like.

Allura's frown deepened, and she took up Lance's arm, swiftly pulling his sleeve to examine his skin, all the while checking his complexion.

"Your pod diagnostics have read perfectly normal," she muttered, more to herself than to Lance, who only stood and stared at her. "Three times now and they've all come back at 100%..."

"...soooo I guess it's just me then, huh? Haha, okay, nothing to worry about."

"Hardly."

Allura let go of him and quickly moved to her desk, determination set in her jaw as she flicked between programs. Confusion spiked through Lance as he pulled his sleeve back down.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm calling Keith to the lab so I can observe what you're–"

" _NO_!"

Allura jumped, looking to Lance in shock and annoyance. Loud noises on top of no sleep and worried uncertainty, everything Lance had done today hadn't helped her, but to be fair,  _she'd _ nearly giving Lance a heart attack just now.

" _Nonononono_ , you don't gotta—we don't gotta  _call Keith_ ,  I'm fine!"

He laughed nervously, a little too loud, a sound that died when he saw how Allura's serious expression never softened.

"I mean...really, I don't feel any different, and it's not painful—there's such a thing as a good side effect, right? Maybe it's a perk."

His stomach flipped as he doubled down on his claims.  A _perk_. He'd kept his thoughts to himself these past three sessions, even after the very first time. Truth be told, that first time he'd barely noticed, his fear of Keith passing out surpassing his other senses. That, and he hadn't really known  _what _ to feel at the time. It was new and a little scary (totally scary), but it was what had to be done.

_But that second time._

Soft prickles. Odd, but not unpleasant. Quite the opposite, actually. It wasn't like how they showed people reacting to getting their blood drank in the late night bad monster movies. Nothing crazy. Just kinda...soft and tingly. And Keith had drank softer the second time, less desperate and more aware of Lance, both a little sluggish from the late hour.

After feeling it again this morning, the most coherent feeding yet, Lance ran through his options in his head; it was either some sort of horrible chemical reaction happening due to the pathogen and he was dying, his body reacting out of shock to the cut he had to make and Keith feeding from it, or—

. . .

. . .

_Nope._ Absolutely not.

He put his hands together in a plea, voice soft as he started to beg.

"Look, I'm fine, I swear, I—I just figured I oughta tell you because you and Coran are doing the science stuff and I thought maybe knowing that'd help you guys out, _just_ _please don't tell Keith,_ it's already weird enough ...if I feel any different, I'll let you know, we can run tests, but right now, I'm...good. I'm good..."

"..."

. . .

Allura sighed heavily, lips pursed as she dismissed the P.A. program and looked to Lance with worry, though her eyes were narrowed. Lance swallowed again.

"...if you insist."

Oh thank  _God_.

"But I'm going to take a blood sample."

"Done."

At this point, that just seemed like being asked for a quarter. Allura activated a small panel that raised a platform from the floor, an extremely thin needle resting in the middle. Allura didn't look at him, simply continuing with her work. Lance took the initiative, stepping forward and faltering for only a moment before willing himself to prick his finger against the needle. In the same instant he felt the initial pin of pain, there was suddenly a sting of  _searing _ pain, and then—absolutely nothing? He hurriedly brought his finger to eye level and saw only a faint red spot that already looked to be fading. What—?

"It cauterizes after the puncture is made," Allura answered before he could ask, eyes never leaving the holovid.

"Oh...cool."

Her gaze was hard as she turned to him.

"If I see  _any_ abnormality, I'm calling you and Keith back here for observations, and I don't want to hear a word about it. Until then, monitor yourself. You'll know when something's wrong first."

. . .

Lance only nodded.

"...well...I'm gonna go get breakfast."

"You should do that."

. . .

Another nod. Lance wouldn't push her anymore; the weary shortness in her voice said more than her actual words. He turned on a heel, hands in his pockets as he returned to the elevator and pressed the floor for the kitchen. Allura gave him a curt wave, her attention focused on a new monitor forming above her, and as the doors shut, the lab vanished from view.

Several floors passed in silence until Lance clutched his skull and shrieked in frustration, finally letting the embarrassment out.  What was he thinking !?

"You shoulda just kept it to yourself, you coulda got by, but  _noooo_ , we gotta be _r_ _esponsible_ , we gotta try and— _GUAAGH_!!"

He leaned against the elevator's back wall, sliding down until he was crouched on the floor, his descent accompanied with a low groan of minor mental agony. Part of him  wanted this to be a pathogen-based side effect. Having it be out of his control would at least give Lance an excuse. If it was just chemicals and alien stuff, he could rest easy.

Otherwise...

. . .

Absolutely not.

Lance huffed, feeling that flip in his stomach that was growing more familiar as the elevator slowed. Just as he righted himself, brushing off his jacket, the doors opened.

"Oh. Hey."

Lance froze as Keith stepped in. Healthy, normal, slightly out of breath Keith. He had a small cloth over his shoulder, and a juice pouch in his right hand. Strands of hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat until Keith wiped them away. The rest was tied back into a small ponytail.

As Lance stared, he realized this was the training deck, and he looked away as Keith took a sip from the pouch. The doors closed, and there was silence for all of four seconds before Lance realized—

He took a step back, head cocked, eyes squinted as he took Keith in.

"You're drinking  _juice_?"

"...yeah?"

Another sip. Lance gawked, incredulous, and he pointed to the pouch as if it had personally attacked him.

"I thought everything but blood tasted bad!"

"It does."

. . .

_Another _ sip. An attempt to ignore the obvious elephant in the elevator.

"Then why the heck—!?"

Keith whirled on him, glaring.

"Because it tastes a little less bad than everything else and _maybe_ I want to feel _normal_ for five minutes. Is that okay?"

Keith's snap shut Lance right up. That...made sense. Lance supposed if he were in this sort of situation, he'd be doing just about anything to feel right again.

The atmosphere stayed terse until it dissolved with a soft, single, and surprising word from Keith: "Sorry..."

Lance faltered before shaking his head and shrugging off the animosity.

"N—Nah, it's cool, I gotcha. Sorry for—...yeah."

. . .

The pouch bunched inward bit by bit, slowly draining, crinkling being the only sound either made for a good few moments.

Maybe let's try that again...

"You get a good workout in?"

Keith looked to him for a moment before nodding, returning his focus to the door as his brow furrowed.

"I thought of something while I was in there."

Lance leaned against the wall, responding with a curious "Yeah?"

"...if I get my heart rate up, that's gonna make more sick blood, and it's gonna infect the good blood faster."

Worry shot through Lance, and he stood straight.

"Are you feeling okay now?"

"Yeah, no, I'm good, it's just—now I'm wondering if the whole morning-night thing is really gonna work out, or if I should just cut back on the training, or if we need to—"

Keith suddenly stopped, and he sighed angrily. He may have appeared healthy, but he was sick. He was sick and tired. Worn and exasperated. He was sick of planning his life down to the minute, and it showed in his jaw, his grip as it tightened on the juice pouch, his narrowed eyes. Lance's brain worked on overdrive to say something, anything that could help.

"Hey, bud, come on, it's gonna be okay. I just talked to Allura, she's workin'  _crazy_ hard up there, her and Coran'll fix you up in no time."

"..."

He patted Keith's back almost on reflex, finishing off his reassurance with a wink and a finger gun.

"And until then, I'm on call twenty-four-seven. Lance McClain, personal blood bank, at your service!"

. . .

Keith snorted, covering up a small laugh, and if Lance's stomach had flipped before, it was doing full-on Olympic-level gymnastics now. ' _Personal blood bank_!?'  That was lame, even for him!

And yet here they were: Keith totally kinda laughed at his lame joke (was it even a joke?) and Lance just stood frozen, heart thudding in his chest. He dropped the gestures, the pat, the gun, and he stepped back, smiling and hoping it was enough to hide just how nervous he suddenly felt.

"Yeah, well let's hope you can close the doors for good sooner than later...thanks."

Keith's gratitude showed with a soft smile he sent Lance's way before looking back towards the now opening doors. The main floor, their rooms and the control room. Lance's best guess was that Keith wanted to change into clothes that weren't gross and covered with training-induced sweat. Keith stepped out, and Lance laughed anxiously.

"Aah, don't mention it. S'what I do..."

Keith stopped and turned, holding up the pouch with an overly thoughtful expression.

"...you think if I asked Allura, she'd put the blood in this?"

As the doors slid shut, Lance just  barely caught Keith's wry smile, a smile of satisfaction, of a joke well-landed, and Lance burst out laughing as the elevator hurtled downward once again. He was laughing for two reasons, the first being a good joke. He could just imagine a vampire popping a straw into one of those blood bags hospitals have for IV drips. Keith had a sense of _humor_? Who knew!? He laughed and he laughed, the sound growing more strained as the second realization settled firmly on his mind, and  _that _ one held far more dire connotations.

Lance was acknowledging what his relationship with Keith had grown into over the past few months, something beyond a thinly-veiled rivalry, outside the admiration most students held toward the guy who was the Garrison's ace pilot until his expulsion.

Keith was a friend.

He was a little aggravating, the mullet was just a mess, his fashion sense was nonexistent, and up until this very moment, Lance was certain he'd never heard of a joke, but...he was a friend. And for awhile, back on earth, something of a role model—someone Lance wanted to have acknowledge him, to be on the same level as.

. . .

. . .

Amongst other things.

Lance shook away the memories. Thinking about the past either helped or hurt, and circumstances given, now probably would probably only do the latter. He needed breakfast, and he knew just the man for the job.

 

—— _Mid-Afternoon_ ——

The lab.

Keith steadied himself as the elevator came to a stop, doors sliding open, and all he saw was an empty room. Holovids and Altean data hovered above a desk, some red, frozen in place, others blue, processing long lines of code.

Allura was nowhere to be seen.

"...'kay."

He muttered to himself, feeling free to move about the space, touching nothing. ' _Crazy hard_ ' was an understatement, this place was a disaster. It honestly reminded him of home, his shack. All the papers and documents, scattered but organized. His cork board...

He glanced up, observing the projections; most were unreadable to him. He'd considered asking Pidge about those Altean speech lessons, but it'd been a different time then.

Things were different now.

After a small breath, Keith's eye drifted from one holovid to another until he did a small double-take on one that had exactly one readable English word displayed.

' _Lance_.'

And beside it were the familiar shapes Keith knew to be human blood cells. He tilted his head, stepping closer and wishing he knew how to make this thing bigger or zoom it in, or whatever.

...as far as he could tell, everything seemed fine. There were no pathogens visible. No blinking red lights or alarms sounding off. That was good.

If anything Keith was more put off by the fact Lance hadn't said anything about  this in the elevator. He'd said he'd talked to Allura, but had something happened to where they were suddenly worried about Lance? He'd been fine for almost two days.

Why was Keith this bothered?

He moved back, trying move past it. Lance was having his blood drank twice a day by someone suffering from an alien pathogen, of  _course _ there were gonna be tests and checks.

' _But why didn't he tell you_?'

. . .

"Keith?"

He turned, so intensely focused he'd completely missed the sound of the elevator, and there was Allura, a steaming cup in hand and a tired look of concern on her face.

"Is everything alright?"

Keith forced a smile.

"Yeah. I trained after Lance and I got done, so I'm feeling up for anything."

Allura smiled back.

"That's wonderful to hear," she sighed, placing herself back at the desk and bringing the cup to her lips. Did Alteans have coffee? Whatever it was, it was a dark blue, almost black liquid. After a long sip, she motioned for the holovids to come closer to her. The ' _Lance_ ' labeled one stayed put.

"...are— you feeling okay?"

Keith received a silent nod, followed by another long sip of the blue drink.

"I've certainly felt better and slept longer, but yes, I'm well. Thank you."

"...I'm sorry you and Coran have to—"

"Don't apologize. We must be prepared for any obstacle that comes our way. For now, we have what seems to be a perfect temporary solution, unless there's...something I should know about."

She looked to Keith, almost...anticipating? Keith felt a moment of confusion before shaking his head.

"No, it's uh...really working out."

"Nothing odd?"

"...besides the blood-drinking thing...?"

"..."

She returned to her mug with a quiet "I see" and drank, finally acknowledging the ' _Lance_ ' holovid by bringing it down as her sole focus.

"Lance came to me for some advice earlier, and considering you both are obviously mixing DNA while you receive your supplements—"

' _Receive your supplements_?' Keith repressed the urge to cringe, but couldn't keep a small look of disgust from flashing across his face.

"—I decided it would be best to make absolutely certain his blood wasn't affected by the pathogen. Even you seemed fine on the surface for a few hours, but everything here's...stable. I've replicated the spatial parameters and temperature the blood would be in Lance's body, using reference from _your_ circulatory system, and it's safe to assume you're non-contagious."

. . .

Keith hesitated. That was all great news, but something still didn't add up.

"Was he worried about something?"

"...w—well it's certainly not improbable Lance would feel a _little_ worried. It's a situation worth worrying about."

...was she dodging the question...?

"Well _yeah_ , but he seemed pretty okay with everything last night. And earlier I bumped into him in the elevator, he told me he talked to you, but he didn't say anything about  _this_."

Allura stared for a moment too long, processing and nodding slowly as she broke their gaze, bringing her cup to her lips.

"...that...is interesting," she replied quietly. "Perhaps—he didn't want to worry you."

. . .

Keith wanted to get a little louder, press a little harder, because that sounded like a load of garbage. Something was up, and he wasn't being told. Something was up about something _directly related to him_ , and he was getting told not to worry about it. He wanted an answer, damn it.

But he said nothing. The constant mantra that had played on repeat in his head for almost a month suddenly increased in volume, and Keith chose to say nothing. He only nodded, biting back his agitation and forcing himself to go over what he knew.

Whatever was up, Lance was fine. He was probably just understandably nervous about the sickness, and...decided not to tell Keith about it. And Allura was tired. She wasn't sleeping, working herself to exhaustion for  Keith's sake, and if there were something major, something _worth_ telling, she would tell him. Them.

. . .

"Probably..."

And Allura smiled pleasantly. Conversation over. After a bit of small talk, Allura urging Keith not to let himself stress and Keith suggesting Allura take a power nap (to which Allura only laughed), Keith left the lab, his next destination unknown.

He had a few hours before the next session. His next  _supplement_. Geez, what a gross way of putting it.  He might say it to Lance later to get a rise out of him.

The smile that thought gave him faded a little when he realized that maybe Lance had already heard it, but whatever, Keith was gonna do it anyway. Even if Lance knew, there's  no way he wouldn't squirm at hearing Keith say something like ' _I need another supplement_.'

He sputtered a laugh, already imagining the kind of face Lance would make. That settled it. Keith would gross Lance out, and  then he'd ask him directly what was worrying him so much.

It was the only fair way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Man, the response has been really kind and great. Thanks!
> 
> Thought I'd just throw this out, I have a tumblr under the same name, NebulaticNavigator, and it's mostly for letting people know updates for Deficient or any other story I may write in the future (and let's be real, probably reblog some cute Lance pictures). Feel free to/to not check it out~!


	5. Keith, the Problem Solver

" _Yeugh_!"

Keith almost barked laughing, covering his mouth with a fist as Lance's face contorted in total disgust. It was no use, however, and soon he was burying his face in the door frame, shoulders shaking as he laughed and laughed.  _God_ , that had been good.

"Quit laughing! It's not funny, it's  _weird and creepy_ , don't call it  _that_!!"

Keith stood straight, wiping tears from his eyes as his laughter was now mostly quick, shaky exhales. Fatigue was slowly possessing his body, the day coming to an end as well as the effects of his last... _supplement_ , as he'd just so referred to it. Lance was glaring at him, mouth wavering in a pout and his face flushed from having been caught so off-guard. That had worked almost  _too_ well.

"Look, lets just do this, I wanna shower before bed," Lance grumbled as he edged past him towards Keith's room, and Keith nodded with a satisfied smile.

"Sorry."

Keith was not sorry.

Same old, same old. Lance made himself comfortable, Keith washed the blade and heard the idle chatter that he was never sure if it was directed toward him or if Lance was just talking to himself ("Why can't the _pod_ have a shower?"). Only a few days, and here they'd found a sort of routine, a sense of normalcy. Neither of them were skeeved by this anymore.

Well,  _Lance_ was probably skeeved again, after Keith's joke, but he'd be fine. Plus, and more importantly, that reaction was priceless. Keith considered them even for all the needling Lance had done to him in the past. Not to mention there was still the matter of Allura and the blood sampling to discuss. Of course he hadn't forgotten. But that would happen later.

A low growl rumbled from Keith's stomach as he dried his knife, and before he could even question whether or not Lance had heard, he heard an impressed whistle. Keith turned and was met with that familiar stupid smirk.

"If you don't hurry, it'll get cold."

Keith raised a brow, unamused as he lamely gestured the knife in Lance's direction.

"I'll throw this at you," he said, threat empty as he tossed the drying rag against the sink.

"Bet you'd miss."

Keith huffed, a nearly imperceptible laugh as he made his way towards the bed and sat. He ignored the ache, the dryness he could feel between his fingers and on his lips. The way his body seemed to grow heavier with the passing minutes. It would only be seconds until it all went away...for a time, anyhow.

Lance didn't flinch this time, though of course it hurt. Keith took his arm and held it aloft, neither raising it too high nor making himself lean down too far to get what he needed. He felt Lance relax, sputtering his lips as if he were bored, as if Keith hadn't quietly started to drink his blood. The initial burst of energy was always welcome, as if life itself had breathed into Keith, his tired muscles and sallow skin tingling with rejuvenation.

The juice box incident from earlier had actually gotten him thinking. If Lance could just let into a glass, that would save them from  _this_ , not that  _this_  was really all that terrible and awkward anymore. It just might be more comfortable for Lance. 

. . .

...the blood wouldn't be as warm, though...

Keith couldn't believe he'd actually thought that, but he was also struggling with just how genuinely  _disappointed_  that prospect would make him. It sounded just plain wrong. _Cold blood_...cold blood, and also...something about that kind of physical disconnect _felt_ inherently wrong. Just using Lance for his blood, without actually seeing him, or hearing him, without _him_ at all, seemed—

. . .

. . .

Keith sat up, pressing his thumb over the cut, uncaring of any smears and only needing to stop the pour as he turned as looked to Lance, who looked taken aback.

"What's—you okay?"

"Are  _you_  okay?

Lance hesitated and laughed, face breaking into a smile as he rolled his eyes. Keith's eyes narrowed, confused.

"Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be? I'm just gettin' my blood drank by Keithula over here, I'm perfect."

"Quit messing around, I can feel your heartbeat."

Lance paled in an instant.

Moments before, blood had just started  _rushing_  into Keith's mouth, more than its usual trickle. To be honest, Keith wasn't exactly filing a complaint, but he also couldn't ignore something like that, especially now that he'd told Lance and this was his reaction.

"I—I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"I'm worrying about it."

Keith glared, opening his mouth to say more, but he only huffed, releasing his thumb and swiftly moving to catch the rush of stopped blood. He'd planned on talking about the lab after Lance was healed, but maybe it was better to do it now. He wasn't going anywhere for awhile, and clearly he was nervous about  _something_.

_Tha_ - _thum tha_ - _thum tha_ - _thum_ —

"I talked with Allura today," Keith said in a breath, almost immediately going back to Lance's arm.

_Tha_ - _thum _–_ tha_- _thum _–_ tha_- _thum_ —

" _Oh yeah_?"

Lance's voice cracked before he coughed, clearing his throat and nodding.

"I, uh, yeah, I did too."

"I know."

"..."

And now Keith wouldn't say anything more. He was too hungry. Too irritated. Lance would talk; it's what he did best. Keith was already surprised that he'd straight–up admitted he'd gone to see Allura, so maybe this wouldn't go so bad.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Several minutes passed in total silence, Lance's heart rate quick and steady in Keith's mouth. After a small eternity, Lance tensed, swallowing and taking a short breath.

"I—...I wanted to ask her how everything was going."

. . .

. . .

"She seemed really stressed out and tired, so I mean, ya know, I didn't wanna bother her  _too_  much..."

. . .

. . .

Come on.

Spit it out.

. . . 

. . .

"...a—and I kinda had a question about something with what we're doing, it wasn't a big deal."

He'd said it so fast the syllables nearly blended. Keith stopped only to ask  "What was it?" tersely before returning to his meal.

Lance's pulse was through the roof again; at this rate, they could finish early. Lance was giving him more blood in thirty 30 seconds than he usually did in two minutes.

. . .

Lance was squirming, as if he were trying and failing to find any comfortable means of sitting, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"I mean...really, it's not like—it's nothi—"

Keith stopped up the cut again, looking to Lance, face showing his last shred of patience but his voice reflecting that damn mantra...when he spoke, it was strained, quit and calm, cold only from the myriad of other thoughts on his mind.

"Lance... _all I want to know_  is if something's wrong. I told you before, your life is my life right now. If something's wrong with you, _I need to know_. Just—please. We can't mess around with this...tell me what's wrong."

"..."

He watched Lance's shoulders tense, as he brought his knees closer to his body, as his eyes flickered to see if Keith was watching him and then almost instantly avert his gaze when he saw the answer was 'yes.'

. . .

"...—'s good..."

"What?"

"I  _said it feels good_."

Lance's previous mumble was now spat directly toward Keith, head whipped to face him, his face that same shade from earlier, wearing that same flustered tight-lipped pout.

. . .

. . .

Keith felt the sudden urge to smack him.

" _That's it_?"

That's it!? All of this for  _that_!?

"What do you mean ' _that's it_!?' Allura took my blood, she said it could be some kinda like alien side effect or maybe—"

"You're fine."

"What?"

"Your blood. You're fine. When  _I_  talked to Allura, I saw your diagnostics. She said there's nothing and you're fine."

"..."

. . .

"And there's no way you didn't know that before I did, but you're still acting weird so...it still feels good."

. . .

"...y—yeah, okay...?"

Lance answered lamely, shrugging.

"..."

. . .

Okay. Keith would give Lance peace now, if only because he knew for a fact if he had enough blood in his body, all of it would have gone straight to his face. He...honestly didn't know how to process this information. It was weird. And it had worried Lance enough to the point of wanting to get examined, which was fair! But now that everything had come back roses, there just wasn't any other excuse but...this just made Lance  _feel_  nice. No dumb reasons like 'alien side effects.' Just endorphins, nerves, and Keith—well, doing what was he doing. 

. . .

Seeing Lance like this was so  _odd_. The bravado was gone. No jokes, no wisecracks. Keith barely recognized this bundled up tense guy sitting next to him, and yet, everything about him made perfect sense. Lance. 

Another thought popped into Keith's mind, but he pushed that one aside, ignoring the small squeeze in his chest as he sighed. After a moment, he took up Lance's arm and offered a smile. It was an awkward smile, but it was an awkward situation.

"Well...it's better than it hurting, right?"

Lance froze, eyes darting from his arm back to Keith, taking a moment to process that all was well before he nodded and corrected his posture. Keith nodded back before returning to what was probably going to be his last two minutes of sustenance. There was silence for a moment before Lance stiffened, nose crinkling, revulsion in his voice.

"She said 'supplement' to me, too."

Keith kept in a laugh and managed to 'nod' as he drank, and Lance groaned. 

"Aliens are weird...no offense."

"Shu' u'."

"It's rude to talk with your mouth full, ya know."

The smile was back. He'd relaxed, at least on the surface; heartbeats didn't lie. But for now, Lance was alright.

...it... _was_  better that this felt good for him than anything else. If this was hurting him, Keith would bring up that glass idea no question, blood temperature preferences be damned.

Truth be told, Keith would be lying if he at least hadn't found some form of comfort in their routine. Not so much the act itself (not that the blood wasn't amazing), but the kind of bonding they were doing overall. He felt closer to Lance now, comfortable, now that they weren't at each other's throats. Now that Lance wasn't constantly trying to one-up him in some kind of one-sided battle to 'prove himself', which he'd never needed to do in the first place. He was plenty incredible on his own. Even through all the previous animosity, Keith internally recognized Lance's talents, and vice versa. Of course, Keith had always been directly praised for his own potential—

. . .

Keith blinked, a hard twinge shooting through his body as he quickly let go of Lance, who raised a brow inquisitively.

"You uh—...you good, dude?"

Keith hesitated before giving a short nod.

"I'm full."

"..."

. . .

"...what? Quit staring at me."

Lance leaned closer to Keith, who scuttled back with a confused glare. 

"What are you doing? You're gonna get blood on my bed again!"

"You're darn  _right_  I will, so start talking."

Lance held out his arm, blood slowly trickling down from the cut, essentially holding Keith's sheets at gunpoint.

" _What_!?"

"Look, if  _you're_  gonna make me fess up about stuff, it's gotta be a two way street."

"That's different! I said I'm full! If you bleed more and get woozy, I'm  _not_  carrying you to the pod."

Keith barely managed to catch a droplet with his hand, and he hated that his immediate reflex was to bring it to his mouth. When he went to catch the next drop, Lance moved his arm quickly, throwing off Keith, who watched as a crimson droplet hit the floor in silence. Keith glowered, deciding to just grab Lance's arm, though Lance, of course, immediately fought back by trying to pry Keith away.

" _Lance_ ,  _quit messing around_!"

"You _quit messing around_!"

Keith lost his grip for a moment, palm covered in blood, but he managed to get that grip back before Lance could get away.

"You're gonna pass out!"

"Quit acting like you're only worried about me!"

"I  _am_ worried about you!“

"Well  _I'm_  worried about  _you,_ I've _been_ worried about you!"

Keith faltered, eyes widening, and that was all it took for Lance to get full control of his limb again, only now the hostage situation with Keith's bed was over. His covered his own wound, huffing before looking back to Keith, who only stared.

That was all Keith could do. Stare. His throat was closed. His body was in peak condition, yet his mind was an absolute storm. If he said or did anything now...

Lance wanted to say something. And knowing Lance, he was going to say it any moment now. That was Lance. Blurt it out.

. . .

. . .

...but nothing came.

Keith watched Lance take another breath, stand, and go towards the bathroom to wash away the blood they'd smeared in their struggle. Keith looked down at his hand, red stained on his palm and between his fingers. It felt disgusting, and yet he found he actually couldn't bring himself to care about it right now.

He listened to the rushing water, the soft rustle of a towel, and then eventually, footsteps as Lance made his way toward Keith's door, which swished open on his approach.

Yet Lance stopped, and so did Keith's thoughts, if only for an instant. He'd turned, hand pressed firmly over his clean cut, expression murky, washed out. Tense. He only met Keith's gaze for a few moments before he dropped his focus to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he started, voice slow, soft. "I shouldn't be forcing anything. It doesn't have to be now, it doesn't even have to be me, I just thought that I—"

. . .

He shook his head quickly, as if banishing away a train of thought. Keith clutched the sheets behind his back with his clean hand, if only so he could pretend he wasn't trembling. Shaking, despite having just drank.

"...just—you can talk to us, Keith. We'll listen..."

"..."

. . .

"I'll uh...I'll be in the pod...see you in the morning."

_Zwish_

And he was gone, the door closing behind him. Keith breathed. He stared at the door for a long while, as if expecting something else. But no. That was it.

. . .

. . .

Keith grabbed his blade with a trembling hand and stood, moving into his bathroom to clean the dried blood from it's blade, to scrub the blood from his skin. Nothing on his chin this time; he was getting better at this.

After turning the lights out, he slipped the knife under his pillow and just as quickly slipped into bed himself, the silence deafening until the sound of rushing water came from next door a little over a half hour later.

...he felt like for the most part, he'd handled today well enough. Not perfect, not at all. But he'd controlled his temper, even though all Keith wanted to do was scream. He'd helped Lance feel better about something that was bothering him...or rather, one thing that was bothering him. It couldn't be helped. It was another day done, with its own personal successes and failures. He closed his eyes, hoping force would help him fall asleep faster. Keith had learned today, and he'd use that to help himself with tomorrow.

That's what Shiro would do.


	6. Hunk, the Lit Match

Keith drank.

Lance sat in silence.

And though the castle's ventilation system was in full working order, the atmosphere was totally stagnant, suffocating Lance to the point it felt as if there were a hand at his throat.

Say something.

' _Morning_.'

' _Morning_...'

And since that exchange? Twenty minutes ago? Nothing.

The tension was unnerving.

Say  _anything_.

Lance swallowed, his mouth bone dry, but the moment he brought himself to speak, a hoarse "I—," he felt his arm grow cold. Keith had finished, and the air suddenly hitting the wound, the wetness where a moment ago only warmth had been, made Lance bristle, the hairs on his arm standing.

"Thanks," Keith murmured, wiping away a trickle of blood he could feel slipping from the corner of his lip. Lance swallowed again, only nodding as he covered the cut with his palm.

"No problem."

. . .

. . .

Keith stood abruptly, striding into the bathroom almost robotically to begin washing the blood from his knife, to clean his face and hands properly.

Lance always felt this quiet awe seeing just how quickly Keith recovered after their sessions, but today, this morning...after last night...

. . .

"Welp. Off to the pod!"

Lance announced this a little too loudly, standing up from Keith's bed with a spring in his step he honestly wasn't feeling. His legs didn't feel like his; he knew was standing, walking, but he felt as if he were floating. Had Keith drank more than usual today?

Keith turned suddenly, confusion on his face...worry?

"You're not gonna wait?"

'Wait for what?"

"I mean—are you sure you can make it on your own?"

There was something odd in Keith's voice. That sound, paired with the expression; it sent a chill up Lance's spine.

And yet he laughed. Softly, quietly.

"Come on, man, I can handle it. I'm tough! I made it just fine last night, so—"

"Right."

Keith smiled, turning back towards the sink so quickly Lance flinched.

...crap...

"...I—I mean, I'm not saying you  _ can't, _  if it'll make you feel better, we can—"

"I feel fine now. You're the one I'm worried about. But you're right. You made it just fine last night."

. . .

"...see you at breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"...'kay."

And Lance left Keith's room, a heaviness bearing down on him that vastly rivaled what he'd felt the night before. This overbearing sense of guilt, concern. Something was wrong with Keith...well, more wrong than the whole vampire thing.

This was a different kind of wrong. This was something Lance had felt long before they'd ever heard of Ferrerus.

This was exactly what prompted him to tell Keith that he was doing well as their leader.

As Lance stepped into the pod, he felt a sharp pain in his heart. For only a split second, he wondered if this was the pathogen finally latching hold to him, but as his consciousness slowly slipped away, he knew. Lance knew.

_Keith_ had latched hold of him.

 

. . . . . . .

 

Don't think.

Just breathe.

You're fine.

Keith stabbed forward with a grunt, the training bot narrowly avoiding the sword's thrust. He leapt backward, dodging a slash aimed toward his shoulder, and he started off at a run, swinging toward the bot's legs.

. . .

' _Are you feeling well today_ ,  _Keith_?'

' _I'm feeling pretty good_ ,  _but I think I'll feel better once I can actually have breakfast again_.'

' _I certainly hope that day comes soon_...'

. . .

_Breathe_ , damn it...

The bot flipped, and as Keith slid underneath, his sword only connecting with the air, he hurriedly tucked into a roll to avoid what would have been a vicious stomp straight into his abdomen. He used his momentum to turn, still crouched, lunging for the bot's exposed back.

. . .

' _Allura's been asking for my help in the lab_!  _I think we might really be getting somewhere_!'

' _Well_ ,  _I'm glad it's not just her and Coran at least_... _is she sleeping_?'

' _Eh_.  _Sometimes I look over and she's all slumped at her station_.  _Little cat naps_.  _She has like_ , nine  _mugs of that blue stuff on standby_.  _She says I can't have any_.  _Gets all twitchy when I_ _ask_."

' _Are_ you _sleeping_?'

'... _well_... _no_... _if I sleep_ ,  _that's more time you have to spend like thi_ s.'

' _Pidge_ ,  _that's not good either_.  _You guys can't go getting yourselves sick just because I am_.'

' _Yeah_ ,  _but_ —'

' _I appreciate it_.  _I do_.  _But I'll feel better knowing we're all trying our best_ without _killing ourselves_.  _Okay_?'

'... _okay_...'

. . .

You're  _fine_.

Another miss. Another dodge. Another counter. Keith lost his stance, catching the bot's weapon square in the chest. He went flying, every ounce of breath knocked from his lungs as a cacophonous voice announced his loss. He hit the floor  _hard _ , skidding, rolling, tossing toward the wall. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he watched the bot descend into the arena floor, having served its purpose.

Everything hurt.

His hands shook as he moved to sit up, eyes burning with tears that were mostly an immediate response to the pain throbbing in his body. He hurriedly swept his hair from his brow, slick with sweat as he desperately struggled to get his bearings back.

The arena was so bright. Had it always been this bright? There had be to some kind of night mode. It was like someone was holding Keith's eyelids apart, like someone was shining a blinding white beam directly into his soul. Make it stop. Turn it off.

He wanted back in his room. His quiet room. His dark room...his blanket over his window...

. . .

A shuddered breath escaped Keith, and the burning in his eyes only intensified.

Stop.

Get up.

Just get _up_.

. . .

He couldn't.

Please.

_Why_?

. . .

' _Keith_... _if_ _I don't make it out of here_ —"

"Keith?"

Keith suddenly lifted his gaze from the floor without thinking, vision obscured by tears and the light. All he saw was Hunk, and Keith dropped his head, furiously wiping away at his eyes, holding his breath for a moment before letting it out in a huff.

_Breathe_.

"H—hey, Hunk."

"Man, are you  _okay_? I was gonna go see Lance, but then I heard this like, ' _BAM_ ' and I couldn't help but peek in, and you're like...you good?"

Keith nodded before fully registering the question, still refusing to meet Hunk's eyes. Forcing himself to find strength to stand, but supporting himself on the wall.

"Yeah just—took a hit...I'm good."

"Is it really okay for you to be training so hard when you're sick?"

"..."

" _Ah_ —!"

Hunk waved his hands in front of him, a universal ' _Wait wait wait_!' before hurriedly explaining himself

" _I meant like_ , ya know, it wouldn't be good to push yourself too much! Things are still pretty quiet out there, so I get that it's like, a good idea to stay ready for anything, but I don't think anyone would blame you for taking some down time during all this. _I_ wouldn't blame you. _Allura_ definitely wouldn't. I mean, she's _definitely_ kinda worried about— uh, well, you know what I mean. If something happens, we'll figure it out like we always do. Just...try and take it easy. For your sake."

". . ."

"You know, I was gonna talk to Lance about this first, but I guess I can run it by you since you're here, and it, like, totally hundred percent involves you, uh...yeah, I did a  _lot_  of soul-searching...and checked my constitutions...and I think maybe, if I like, don't _look_ at it too much, _maybe_ I could—"

Hunk's voice cracked, and he swallowed.

"—I maybe  _might_  be able to put some of Lance's—some of—... _well_ ! You get it! The point is, I might be able to help you eat. Like, _eat_ eat!  I could add some... _ stuff  _ to your food at breakfast and dinner, maybe it'll make it a little more palatable for ya? I just—I thought maybe it'd be nice. You could stay with us at the table, and yeah it'd probably be a little awkward at first, but we—"

"Hunk, stop _talking like this is normal_."

Hunk flinched, the nervous smile wiped off his face in the same instant.

"...I—"

"I don't want blood in my food. I don't want to stop training. I want _you_ , and _everyone_ , to _stop_. _Worrying about me_. So would you just _drop it_!?"

Keith's voice echoed through the arena. It was loud. It was scorching. It was acidic. It was—

. . .

. . .

. . .

"...oh my G—H–Hunk, I—I'm so—"

"No, you—you're right."

Hunk's response was quick, strained, his head tilted up toward the ceiling, and Keith's heart sank directly into his stomach.

No.

_Fuck_ .

" _Hunk_ —"

" _No_ , no, I  _really get it_ , I do, I—you...y–you're having a rough time. I shoulda— yeah , no, you're good, man, I–I'm just gonna—"

Hunk spoke quickly, forcing calm, and he hurriedly turned around, but not quick enough for Keith to miss the tears that had started to spill down his face.

"...you can apologize to me later...you gotta focus on you right now..."

. . .

And then he was gone.

. . .

It had all happened so quickly. Keith had just... _imploded_ , it was like he'd lost all control.  All day, every day, everyone,  _this_ , he just—

He was rooted to the spot, legs trembling.

He'd just  _ yelled at Hunk. _

For  _ nothing. _

. . .

Keith fell to the floor, physically spent, mentally drained, in pain in just about every way a young human could be, and he sobbed. He plastered his hands over his mouth, praying he could stifle himself enough to where no one could hear or see this awful display.

Every part of his mind was screaming to run after Hunk, tell him he was sorry, that he hadn't meant anything he'd said, but...Keith didn't want to lie.

He was sick of everyone worrying.

He was sick of blood.

He was sick of everyone acting upbeat about something so  _wrong_.

He wanted them to stop caring.

If no one cared, this would be easier.

He wanted Allura to sleep.

He wanted Pidge to focus on finding her brother.

He wanted to enjoy Hunk's cooking without the threat of vomiting.

He wanted Lance to—

. . .

. . .

...as his tears dripped to the cold metal floor, breaths shaking against his gloves, Keith realized he—he didn't want to go back to that.

He still wanted to know Lance like this.

About his thoughts. His family. Him.

The only good thing to come from this godforsaken infection was what Lance had become to Keith. And even then, there was still the guilt. This reliance on him. And last night, him expressing his worry....blowing up at him like this would have been easier.  _Lance_  would have fought back. Lance  _had_  fought back.

But Keith hadn't blown up at Lance.

Hunk had gotten caught in this fallout.

. . .

. . .

He needed out of this arena. Another minute under this harsh light and Keith thought he might actually explode.

Breathe.

 

. . . . . . .

 

Lance didn't knock.

It'd taken everything he'd had to not bust into Keith's room three hours ago. It was taking everything he had right this moment not to start asking questions and demanding answers.

Keith looked like absolute hell, and Lance could see from the moment he'd crossed the threshold that it was totally unrelated to his condition. Eyes red, swollen from crying, hair mussed and wrecked, just altogether totally disheveled.

He looked up reflexively as Lance entered, and when he  _saw_ it was Lance, Keith chose to focus on his pillow, already slipping his knife out from under it.

"..."

Lance let out a breath through his nose, shrugging off his jacket and taking what he considered "his" place on Keith's bed. He took the knife and hovered it over their usual spot before choosing to nick closer to his wrist. Blood flowed up freely, and he noticed Keith hesitate before taking to it like a dying man to water.

...well, a dying vampire to blood.

Keith held his wrist aloft, drinking hungrily, clutching him a little too tight. Lance felt the tingling; he felt like it'd gotten worse since he'd admitted it to Keith. Little pleasant waves, shooting up his arm...

. . .

. . .

"... well. Now that I have you where I want you..."

Lance started, and he felt Keith falter for a moment. He never quite stopped, but he definitely did get startled.

"Hunk told me everything. I mean, you knew that was coming. Big guy always tells me everything. I calmed him down, he's cool. He doesn't hate you or anything. I don't think Hunk actually knows how to like,  _ hate  _ someone. First of all...don't  _ever_  do that again. Second of all, I know what he told you about apologizing, and I agree...for the record, I'm down with the whole blood in the food thing, but I don't wanna talk about that right now. You gotta get yourself straightened out before you can even _think_ about saying sorry."

"..."

"...you know, you really don't _have_ to talk to any of us?  But personally? This is just me, just _Lance_  talking, what do _I_ know , but uh,  _yeah_ you really  _should_ talk to us. We'd  _like_ you to talk to us. We can't read minds, but clearly, there's something very up with yours. This isn't like you. This—this is what I was trying to do last night, and maybe I did that wrong—okay, I totally did it wrong, I can admit that. I shouldn't'a threatened to bleed all over your room, but I thought it'd work. I'm sorry for that, bu it's like— _Keith_. We  _care_ about you. We  _know_ you're not okay, and seeing you try to—"

"I know."

Lance looked to Keith in surprise, taken aback by actually receiving an answer, but even more so by the way he'd received it.

Keith had spoken two words, and they were saturated with fatigue. Pain.

Lance was more worried about the fact Keith hadn't started drinking again, and he hurriedly went to cover his own wrist.

"Keith, you're gonna get it everywhere—"

"I _know_ I'm not okay, I can't—I can't _not_ be okay, Lance, you don't—..."

Keith shuddered and groaned, slumping forward to the point he came dangerously close to falling off the bed. Panic filled Lance, who caught him quickly.

" _Whoah_ , whoah, _easy_ man. Come on, drink up, you're not done yet. Don't die on me..."

Lance uncovered his wrist, bringing it right to Keith's lips. He tensed at how quickly Keith reacted, practically latching himself to get his fill again. Lucidity slowly returned, but that lack of energy...this looked like living death.

' _I can't not be okay_ ' was a hell of a statement. 

"...does this mean you're gonna talk to me? When we're done?"

. . .

All Lance got was a weak nod, but that was enough. The most honest gesture Keith had given anyone in months.

Okay. _Now_ they were getting somewhere.


End file.
